


Et Lux In Tenebris Lucet

by enigmaticblue



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 72,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike manages to save Dawn, but pays a steep price, which changes everything, including Buffy's feelings towards him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Body Broken

**Author's Note:**

> One of my first BtVS fics, reposted here.

Sometimes it works. You know, those things that you try so hard to do, the ones that really matter, but that you manage to screw up. Well, there are places that exist only because one time you got it right. In this life, Spike got it right.

           

It was split-second timing. One minute the knife was sliding in, cutting flesh, making him bleed, and the next he was being shoved out into thin air. In this particular reality however, he managed to twist and grab onto the first thing he could lay his hands on, which happened to be Doc’s ankle. Strong hands took firm purchase on the demon’s black-clad leg, and they fell together, falling end over end to the hard ground. He had one thought before he lost consciousness. And it was of Dawn.

           

           

They came down from the tower together, hand in hand. Their eyes went to his body, lying there amidst the rubble. The others, the Scoobies and Giles, stood looking at his still form, and as the first rays of the sun lit the sky, there was the thought that it might be easier to just let it go. To let the sun take him. He would have died a hero, and it would be over. The thought crossed Buffy’s mind as well, but Dawn tugged at her hand impatiently. “Buffy, we have to get him out of here. It’s almost light out.”

           

Buffy looked at her sister, and then at the fallen vampire. Perhaps it would be easier just to let the sun come up, but he lay there because she had asked him to make a promise. If not for him, Dawn would be dead. Perhaps she would be dead. He had saved them, and if there was one thing that Buffy understood it was duty. There was an inherent fairness in keeping him alive, so that’s what she would do. “Giles,” she said quietly. “Get Dawn home. I’ll need to take Spike through the sewers.”

           

There were no arguments, though the thought of letting him dust hung in the air, unsaid. Buffy simply picked him up, quickly carrying him to the nearest sewer entrance, knowing that Willow would want to spend time with Tara, and Xander would be busy taking care of Anya. For now, Dawn would be safe with the Watcher, and Buffy would have plenty of time to spend with her as soon as she got back to the house. Now that the world wasn’t ending, they would have all the time they needed.

 

~~~~~ 

 

He woke slowly, the sweet, coppery smell of blood filtering through his nostrils. It wasn’t the blood that brought him completely out of the darkness however. “Dawn.”

           

“She’s safe. You saved her.” Buffy’s voice was unusually gentle, and he relaxed as he opened his eyes.

           

“Doc?” he asked, not even bothering to take the blood. He’d made a promise and he would keep it.

           

“Gone.” Giles had gotten Dawn back to the house shortly before she’d arrived with Spike. She’d had to run to prevent the sun from singeing him too badly, and had arrived breathless, partly from the exertion, partly because she’d remembered that they hadn’t taken care of Doc’s body. Giles had looked rather grim, but he’d promised to finish the task, and she assumed he had. There’d been no word to the contrary.

           

“Harris and I—” he began, but she cut him off. They’d had experience with the Master; enough to know how to dispose of a hard-to-kill demon.

           

“Giles was going to burn the body and sow the ashes with salt. It’s done, Spike. You need to eat.” She smiled, encouraging him, and he took the proffered straw and sucked greedily. When he’d finished, she reached out to touch the gash that he’d gotten across one cheek. “How’s your leg?” she asked softly.

           

Spike tensed, and the little niggling feeling in the back of his brain erupted into full-blown panic. He’d asked about Dawn and Doc because he knew there was something wrong, something he was forgetting, and now he realized what it was. His face must have shown his surprise, because Buffy gave him a look that was laden with sympathy. “I think your leg must have been broken when you fell. It was purplely and swollen. Does it still hurt?”

           

He didn’t lie. “No, it’s alright. You know us vampires, luv, we heal fast.”

           

“Good.” She took the mug and got up to leave. “Look, it’s still mid-afternoon. Why don’t you get some rest, and we’ll see how you feel tonight before I kick you out.” But the way she said it took the sting out of her words, and he knew she didn’t mean it that way. If she had, he wouldn’t be in her house in the first place.

           

When the door closed behind her, Spike wasted no time, throwing off the covers and looking down at his legs. Buffy had managed to find a pair of sweat pants to fit him somewhere, and he was grateful that he was decently clothed at least. Still, looking down at his motionless legs gave him a sinking feeling in his gut that he couldn’t chase away. He focused on his toes, but they stayed stubbornly still, not even a twitch.

           

Spike ignored the lump that threatened to form in his throat; the Big Bad didn’t cry. He did need to figure out what he was going to do, however. The last time he’d been stuck in a chair Dru had taken care of him. Well, sort of, anyway, but this time there was no way he could depend on the kindness of Buffy or the Scoobies. It would be worse than being around his Sire and Angelus. Somehow, he needed to convince Buffy to get him back to his crypt, without letting her know what was wrong if at all possible. Either way, if she’d get him there, he could finish it off. He should be able to drag himself out to meet the sunrise at least. He had that much strength left. First, he’d get himself dressed and from there it should be simple to get her to get him home. Knowing Buffy, she’d be all too ready to get rid of him anyway.

 

~~~~~ 

 

“So how’s the undead fiend?” Xander asked, as Buffy came down the stairs and into the kitchen. Buffy quickly rinsed the mug out in the sink and stuck it in the dishwasher.

           

“Xander!” Buffy scolded lightly. “Spike saved Dawn’s life.”

           

The man had the grace to at least appear repentant. “Sorry. How is he?”

           

Buffy shook her head. “He’s still pretty badly beaten up, but it looks like he’ll be staying around for a while.” She watched her friend’s face, but he bit back the comment he’d been about to share. Despite the robot, despite getting chained up in Spike’s crypt, in spite of all the bad blood that lay between the two of them, she felt something for the blond vampire. Probably not what he wanted, but she did feel sorry for him.

           

He’d been badly wounded by his fall from the tower; his leg had been broken, almost crushed, and he’d been bruised and lacerated from head to toe. And it hadn’t been that long since his encounter with Glory had left him completely broken and bloody. She gave a soft sigh, beginning to think she might have underestimated him.

           

“Buffy?” Dawn came into the kitchen, still in her pajamas. “How is he?”

           

Buffy smiled at her sister reassuringly. “He’ll be fine, Dawnie. He’ll probably be up and around in no time at all.” As if to immediately prove her wrong, there was a loud thump from overhead, which could only be Spike. She moved towards the stairs instantly, Xander and Dawn following closely at her heels, but Buffy stopped them with an outstretched hand. “I’ll take care of it. Stay here.”

           

They stayed, her tone brooking no argument, and she raced up the stairs two at a time. When she opened the door to her mother’s old room, Spike lay sprawled out on the floor, an indecipherable expression on his face. In an instant, Buffy knew exactly what was wrong with him, and she quickly shut the door behind her lest someone decide to follow after all and see what she had.

           

Buffy walked over to Spike’s form, politely ignoring the angry tears that were threatening to roll down his cheeks. It would be hard, she knew, for him to be put into this position again. She quickly lifted him up, not quite meeting his eyes. This would be the second time she’d be responsible for putting him in a chair. And this time around she felt guilty about it.

           

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

           

He glared at her. “Don’t,” he replied sharply.

           

“Spike—”

           

“I don’t want or need your pity, Slayer,” he continued. “In fact, just get me back to my crypt and I’ll take care of the rest.”

           

It took a few seconds for his words and their meaning to register. She would take him back to his crypt and he would dust himself. Buffy was surprised at how her stomach twisted in protest. “I’m not going to let you hurt yourself, Spike.”

           

His blue eyes blazed. “And I’m not going to take your sodding charity just so you can laugh at the helpless vampire,” he snapped. “I told you, get me back to my place and you won’t have to worry about me again. Isn’t that bloody well what you want?”

           

Buffy looked for some reason to keep him here, in the land of the living and unliving. Logically, of course, there wasn’t one. If he was willing to kill himself, she should be jumping for joy. In the end, she gave him the only reason that made sense to her. “Dawn would be devastated if something happened to you,” she pointed out.

           

“Something already has happened to me,” he replied, using brutal logic. “I’m no good to you, Slayer, a burden. She’ll get over it.”

           

Buffy wasn’t so sure. She was almost as uncertain about her ability to get over it. Spike wasn’t a friend, but he was a comrade, and she hated to lose him. “Dawn just lost Mom, Spike,” Buffy said quietly. “Losing you would hurt her. Don’t ask me why, but she really cares about you.” She paused as a thought came to her. “Ooh, plus you promised you’d take care of her.”

           

Spike’s face twisted with some unknown emotion. “Kept my promise, didn’t I?” he pleaded. “Just let me go, please, Buffy. I’m used up; you won’t get anything more out of me.”

           

“Spike, I can’t. Dawn would blame herself, you know she would.”

           

He was almost crying again now, hating himself for his weakness and her refusal to release him. “And what happens when you get tired of me a week or two from now, and you decide you don’t want to do this? Will you just dump me then?”

           

Buffy understood what he was asking. It would be better for her to let him dust himself now than to give him hope and kill him later. If she agreed to help him, she was in it for the long haul. “How long were you in the chair the last time?” she asked softly.

           

He shrugged. “Maybe three, four months. Somewhere in there.” He looked at her. “Don’t do this, Buffy.”

           

She studied his face, his high cheekbones, the right one with a gash running across it. His blue eyes, still shadowed with bruises, both old and new. His chest and abdomen were mottled with contusions from his encounter with the Hellgod. The fact that he was quite attractive suddenly flitted through her brain, and she thought he looked like a battered angel. A battered, wicked angel.

           

“I swear I’m going to get you back on your feet,” she replied, promising with every ounce of her being. After all, she owed him big time.

           

He looked away from her, not at all happy with what she had to say. “Why?”

           

Buffy looked at him incredulously. “Because you just saved my sister’s life. Because you probably saved the world.” He kept his eyes trained on the wall, and she sighed. “Just promise me you won’t try to kill yourself, Spike. I really don’t want to have to explain to my sister that somebody else she loves just died.”

           

“Promise,” he mumbled, still not looking at her.

           

“You should probably get cleaned up,” she said quietly. “If I can get you into the bathroom, do you think you can handle the rest?” He nodded shortly, and she frowned when she realized he wasn’t going to say any more. “Come on then.”

           

Spike shut his eyes against the humiliation. “Right.”

           

Buffy could feel his helpless rage emanating off of him, and she knew she wouldn’t be much happier if she were in the same position. What was more, she had friends who would be with her every step of the way. Spike had a bunch of people who didn’t really like him, and whom he had no reason to trust.

 

It would have been easier just to throw him over her shoulder and carry him to the bathroom, but she didn’t. Instead, she put one of his arms around her shoulders, and one of her arms around his waist, and then half dragged, half carried him.

           

Sitting him down on the toilet seat, she started the bath water. “Can you manage the rest?”

           

He nodded. “Yeah.”

           

She pulled out a towel for him and handed it over, then left and headed downstairs, hoping she wouldn’t have to come back to find him in a very compromising situation. Both Xander and Dawn looked at her expectantly as she came back into the kitchen. “Tell us Spike’s done us all a favor and spontaneously combusted,” Xander said, only half-kidding.

           

“Xander, stop,” Buffy said quietly, her face completely serious. Too serious for someone who’d just defeated a Hellgod, really.

           

“What’s wrong, Buffy?” Dawn asked.

           

She looked away, wondering what she was going to tell them. She hadn’t slept in what felt like forever, hadn’t been able to in spite of her exhaustion. And she was tired. Tired of being the Slayer, tired of being a mom, tired of being a friend. She ached to just take a vacation, just get away from everything, and knew that it wasn’t going to happen. At least, not in this lifetime. “Spike was hurt worse than we expected.” She sighed, and then quipped, “It looks like I put him in a chair. Again.”

 

~~~~   

 

There were almost completely expected reactions from both of them. Dawn was upset, and immediately started thinking that it was entirely her fault. Xander, on the other hand, bit back every snide comment he wanted to make, mostly because of Dawn. He might not always be the most sensitive of men, but he could keep his mouth shut. Buffy knew she’d hear it later though.

           

Spike was out of the tub and had dressed by the time she’d comforted Dawn. She knocked softly and entered when he invited her. “How’s it going?” she asked.

           

“I managed.”

           

His hair was damp and curly and his face tightly drawn. “You want to get some more rest? Do you need anything?”

           

“’M fine, Slayer.”

           

Buffy swallowed. “Would you mind talking to Dawn?” she asked softly. “She pretty much feels like this is her fault.”

           

“Bollocks,” he replied, rudely. “Did it because I wanted to.”

           

“I know,” she replied, and he finally looked her in the eye. Something he saw there made him straighten.

           

He nodded slowly. “I’ll talk to her.”

           

“Thanks, Spike.” Buffy came to him, and prepared to help him move. She seemed about to say something, and then changed her mind. “Dawn will stay with you. I’m going to go to your crypt, pick up some of your things. Is there anything you want?”

           

He hesitated. “There’s some blood in the fridge, my clothes. There’s a box, in the sarcophagus. That’s about it. Don’t have much.”

           

“I’ll take care of it,” she promised.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Xander immediately started giving Buffy an earful as soon as they were on their way to his crypt. “Come on, Buf. Why not just leave him at his crypt? It’s not that big of a deal.”

           

Buffy shook her head. “First of all, because he pretty much promised he was going to make himself all dusty if I took him back there. And secondly, because there are a lot of things that are out to get him. If any of them found out he were helpless, he’d be dead in a minute. Or worse.”

           

Her friend hesitated. “All I’m saying is that your place might not be the best vampire hospital, especially for Spike. You know how weird he is about you.”

           

Buffy shook her head. “Spike is harmless, even more now than he was before.” Looking into Xander’s eyes, she tried to make him understand. “It’s more than that, Xan. I owe him. I asked him to protect Dawn, and he did. That’s why he’s hurt. And I promised I’d make sure he got on his feet again. I’m not going back on my word.”

           

He sighed. “I just hope you aren’t making a huge mistake, Buf.”

           

“Remember Glory?” she asked quietly. “He could have died trying to protect my sister. And he could have died last night. He didn’t have to do any of that. This is what’s fair, Xander. There isn’t a lot of fairness in this world. I’m just trying to make sure there’s a little more.”

 

~~~~   

 

Spike was prepared for Dawn’s knock when it came. He still wasn’t happy with Buffy for not just taking him back to his crypt and letting him dust himself. But he’d promised her. And her description of Dawn’s reaction made him think that there was at least one person who would care if he were gone. Buffy’s response was a bit more puzzling, but he’d always known she had an inherent sense of fair play. It was one of the reasons he’d been able to trust her enough to go to her during the whole Angelus affair. He couldn’t let himself hope for any more. “Come in, Nibblet.”

           

Dawn poked her head around the door cautiously. “Buffy said I should come keep you company.”

           

“Always glad to see you, Bit,” he replied as gently as he knew how. So much of the time, he wasn’t sure what to do with the girl. She was so fragile to him, and yet so precious. He wasn’t sure when he had started caring about Dawn for herself and not for a way to get to Buffy, but then again, he’d liked Joyce too. Maybe he liked Dawn because she seemed to like him. She was the only one besides Joyce to think of him as something other than a monster.

           

Dawn came up to the bed slowly. “Spike, I’m really, really sorry. I never wanted—”

           

“Hey, now. This is the Big Bad you’re talking about. I’ll be on my feet in no time.” When she didn’t look convinced, he waved her nearer, and he could see she was about to cry. Spike had no clue what he was supposed to do with a crying Dawn. If he’d had a choice, he’d have bolted, but that was out of the question now. “Come here.”

           

She sat on the edge of the bed, and suddenly was in his arms. Now Spike was really uncomfortable. He hadn’t liked a woman’s tears back when he was human. As a centuries old vampire, he had even less understanding of what to do. He patted her awkwardly on the back and whispered over and over, “It’s okay. It’ll be fine.”


	2. Living and Not Living

Buffy was beginning to seriously regret saving Spike’s hide. She knew he was upset, she knew he was having trouble dealing, but he was a pain in the ass to have around all the time, and she was about two seconds from staking him.

           

It wasn’t an ideal set-up to begin with. It was a lot safer for him to sleep in her mom’s old room, where there wasn’t any direct sunlight during the day, but that meant carting him up and down the stairs, which he hated. They’d found him a wheelchair, but Buffy’s house wasn’t really a great place for maneuverability, and so he had a hard time getting around when he was downstairs as well. Buffy was trying to keep all of that in mind as she dealt with him.

           

But he was not only cranky, he was also demanding, rude, snarky, and downright pissy. He continually insulted her and her friends, just to get under their skin. And at no point did he show any kind of gratitude whatsoever. About the only person that was safe from his acidic tongue was Dawn, with whom he was uncharacteristically gentle.

           

Well, Dawn and Tara. The only time he’d tried to snipe at her, she’d just given him this look. Buffy had watched the exchange, and to her surprise, Spike had immediately dropped his eyes and offered a muttered apology. She was still trying to figure out how Tara had managed that, because she had no clue how to get him to shut up. The others were lucky enough to be able to avoid him, but Buffy didn’t have that luxury since he was in her house. Still, she made Dawn deal with him as much as possible.

           

By the third week, she was ready to see the last of him, and absolutely couldn’t imagine keeping him around until he was back on his feet. Plus, she’d started to worry about bills, and college in the fall, and taking care of Dawn, and all the other little mundane things that were beginning to make up her life. Taking care of a crippled vampire was not on her list of good times.

           

“Back from patrol early, Slayer?” he asked snidely as she let herself in. “Not much creeping about tonight?”

           

“Spike, just shut up. I’m not in the mood,” Buffy said tiredly. What she wanted was a hot shower and then bed. She looked over to see Spike in his chair and Dawn lying on the couch, idly flipping the channels.

           

“Losing your touch, pet?”

           

“Don’t,” she warned him. “Really not in the mood for your mind games tonight.”

           

“Then why don’t you come over here and make me,” he invited, tauntingly.

 

Buffy ignored him and turned to walk up the stairs. “You’re losing it, Slayer,” he called out after her. “The Hellgod took everything you had, and you don’t have anything left. One of these days, you’re going to find yourself wishing it’d been you on top of that bloody tower.”

           

It was way too close to home. How Spike had guessed, how he’d known what she thought of in the dead of night, was beyond her. The dreams she’d had of jumping to save the world, of dying, of being finished, were something she’d told no one about, and the fact that he’d somehow known was the last straw. “That’s it, Spike,” she hissed, turning to face him. “I think it might be time for me to put you out of your undead misery.”

           

Buffy marched across the living room and hauled him out of his chair and up against the wall. She could see the sneer on his face, and her world narrowed to him and the stake she was reaching for. “Buffy!” Dawn’s alarmed voice barely penetrated her concentration.

           

“Go upstairs, Dawnie,” Buffy ordered.

           

“But—”

           

“Now,” she said, in a tone that brooked no opposition. If she was going to stake him, she really didn’t want her sister watching.

           

Dawn hesitated and then whirled out of the room. “If you kill him, I’m never going to speak to you again.”

           

Not even that dire threat was enough to make Buffy hesitate. What stopped her was the look in his eyes, the look that didn’t match the nasty snarl on his face. It was hope. For a second, she stood there, frozen, realizing that Spike had spent the last couple weeks _trying_ to get someone angry enough to kill him. He’d promised not to hurt himself, but that hadn’t stopped him from trying to get someone else to kill him. “I can’t believe you,” Buffy said, dropping him back into his chair and releasing him.

           

“What? You changed your mind, Slayer?” There was a touch of disappointment in his tone, which confirmed her suspicions.

           

She shook her head. “You were trying to get me to stake you.”

           

His face grew serious and hardened. “Then why don’t you do it? You know you want to.”

           

Buffy might have said more, but Dawn came back into the living room, a deeply betrayed look on her face. “You want her to stake you?”

           

“Bit, stay out of this,” he said softly.

           

She stomped her foot. “You were going to leave me.”

           

He had the grace to look guilty. “Nibblet, you don’t need me.”

           

“You’re my friend,” she protested angrily.

           

“I’m the guy your sister asked to be your bodyguard!” he snarled. “That’s it.”

           

Dawn’s lower lip started to tremble. Buffy was watching the scene with interest. She knew her sister was upset, but she could smell a truly masterful guilt trip from about a mile off. This was going to be one of those. “So you’re not my friend?”

           

Spike looked startled. He had been fairly certain that he didn’t have any friends; the Scoobies had made that clear not too long ago. No one, not even Dawn, had stood up for him then. And yet apparently the girl no longer felt that way. “I don’t have friends, Bit. Evil vampire, here.”

           

“So you’re saying I can’t choose my own friends.” Buffy was truly impressed. Dawn had gone from weepy to pissed in about two seconds, and Spike was looking completely bewildered. He might be a master manipulator himself, but he had nothing on a teenage girl.

           

“No, I never said that,” he denied, and then realized the trap he’d thrown himself into. “Are we friends?” he asked. There was a look of vulnerability on his face, and both girls realized that he wanted it.

           

“Only if you don’t get yourself staked,” Dawn said. “Do you really hate me that much?”

           

His eyes widened. “’Course not. Why would you think that?”

           

“Because I should have been the one who died,” she said. “If I had died, then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

           

“Bite your tongue, girl,” Spike replied, almost harshly. “Even if I’d known what was going to happen, I wouldn’t change one thing. Don’t even let me catch you thinking that, Bit.”

           

“Then you promise not to get yourself killed?” she asked, coming over to him, and laying her hand on his arm.

           

He sighed deeply. “Yeah, I promise.”

           

“And you’ll be nice?”

           

Both eyebrows went up. “Evil here, remember? Nice isn’t in my vocabulary.”

           

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Fine. Less of a pain, then.”

           

His lips twisted into something resembling a smile. “Do my best.”

           

“Good.” Dawn leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, turning before she could see the pole axed look on his face. “I think I’m going to bed,” she announced. “’Night.”

           

Buffy responded in kind, and looked over at Spike, who still looked stunned by the gesture of affection. “Do you want to go outside?” she asked softly.

           

He looked over at her, shook his head. “No. Go to bed, Slayer. You look knackered.”

           

Buffy hesitated, then nodded. “All right. Will you be okay—”

           

“Go on, Buffy,” he said, and his voice was tired, seemingly weighed down by every one of his years. “Promised the Bit I wouldn’t off myself, didn’t I?”

           

Not knowing what else to say, she nodded, and headed up to bed. “Good night, Spike,” she said softly, but there was only silence behind her.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike sat on the back porch, staring out into the darkness. Two weeks of hard work had been completely wasted; he could tell by the look on Buffy’s face when she had come into his room this evening. There was no way he would get her to stake him now, and he found himself between a rock and a hard place. Not only had he promised Buffy that he wouldn’t kill himself, he’d promised the Bit that he wouldn’t get anyone else to do the job. It looked like he was here for the duration.

           

There was a sound behind him, and he didn’t even turn to see who it was. Her scent had been burned on his memory. “How was patrol?”

           

“Quiet,” she replied. “It was kind of nice, actually.” Their silent truce hung in the air between them, much as it had after the affair with Glory and the ‘bot. There was everything and nothing to say. “I brought you something.”

           

He said nothing, waiting until she came up beside him, handed him a small, rectangular package. His lips curled up in a pleased smile. “Ta,” he murmured, shaking a cigarette out of the pack, and taking the proffered lighter from Buffy. He drew in a lungful of smoke and exhaled. Oh, how he’d missed this.

           

She took a seat on the stairs not far from him. “I got to thinking, you know. And I’d heard one of the problems with quitting cold turkey is the irritability. So, I figured since you’ve been bad-moody guy lately, that might help.”

           

It was a peace offering, and a gift. “Yeah, well, sorry about that. Had to bloody well try though, didn’t I?”

           

She looked over at him and realized that he probably would have had an easier time of it if she had been cruel. If she’d been nasty to him, he would have stubbornly insisted on surviving because it would have been done to spite her. He was just that persistent. By treating him nicely, she had removed the goad that had sustained him the last time. “I’m sorry, Spike.”

           

“Don’t,” he replied, drawing in more smoke. “Like I told you, like I told Nibblet, I did it because I wanted to. I’d do it again if it meant neither of you got hurt.”

           

She believed him. Unbelievably, she knew he was telling the truth, if only because he sucked at lying. “I think you would.”

           

“I’ll be fine, Slayer. Did this before, never wanted to do it again, but it’s about my luck.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Never could do much right.”

           

“You did this right, Spike,” Buffy replied, offering him comfort without really knowing why. Realizing that he wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t trying to get himself killed. “I’m going in. You going to be okay out here?”

           

He nodded. “I’ll lock up in a bit. Think I’ll just smoke another fag.”

           

She rolled her eyes, not even trying to understand his slang, and then gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder as she went inside. Spike went back to his contemplation of the darkness, the red-orange glow of his cigarette the only point of light.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Xander had no clue what he was doing. He hated Spike, he had no reason and no desire to help him at all. Which meant he had no reason for lying to his friends about being sick to get out of going to the Bronze. Instead, he was at Buffy’s house, planning on putting an evil vampire back on his feet. He _must_ have been hit on the head one too many times.

           

Shifting the bundle in his arms, he let himself into the house and called out cautiously, “Hello?” When he got no response, he started for the back porch. Buffy had said that Spike spent most of his time out there, brooding. The Slayer had admitted to being concerned for him, just because he’d seemed uncharacteristically depressed for the last few weeks.

           

Sure enough, when Xander opened the back door, Spike was sitting in his chair, smoking and staring out into space. “If you’re looking for the Slayer, she already left,” Spike said without even turning around.

           

Xander hesitated. Last chance to back out. “I was looking for you.”

           

That got his attention. Spike spun his chair to face the other man. “What for?”

           

“I have something for you.” He took his bundle and dumped it on the porch with a clatter.

           

Spike’s eyes widened as he took in the pair of crutches and leg braces. “You have got to be kidding me,” he said flatly.

           

“Look,” Xander said, in his most persuasive voice. “You’ve got the strength and the balance to drag around your own dead weight. I figured it was worth a shot.”

           

“What? So you can laugh at me when I fall on my face?” he asked cynically. “Forget it.”

           

“If I wanted to laugh at you, I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of getting this stuff.” At Spike’s still skeptical look, Xander took a leap of faith and explained. “I had this great uncle, right?”

           

“And I care because?” Spike interrupted.

           

He continued without acknowledging Spike’s comment. “He got polio way back when, and he pretty much lost all use of his legs. But he managed to drag himself around with a pair of crutches because he didn’t want to be stuck in a chair. I figured if some old guy with arthritis can do it, a vampire could.”

           

The look on Spike’s face changed from one of distrust to one of hesitant hope. “Why are you doing this, Harris? You hate me.”

           

“I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for Buffy,” he replied. “I figure it’s all good if she doesn’t have to cart your sorry ass around all the time.”

           

Spike looked from the other man to the pile of gear on the porch. He still wasn’t so sure about all of this, but he’d never been one to resist a challenge. “All right,” he conceded. “But if you start laughing the first time I fall on my face, I’ll bite you.”

           

“I’m shaking,” Xander replied sarcastically, but they were on even ground now. Threats had been made and disregarded; they could now get back to the business at hand.

           

He didn’t offer to help Spike as he struggled to get the braces on his legs. They were the type that people with knee surgery typically used afterward. The joints could be adjusted for tension, and they weren’t the heavy, metal braces his great uncle had used. Xander had managed to get a couple from the guys at work, more than a few of whom had knee surgeries. He’d explained he’d had a friend who’d had both knees operated on and had a long recovery ahead. They’d been more than happy to help. The crutches he’d gone out and bought; he just had to hope that his investment wouldn’t be wasted.

           

Once Spike had gotten the braces on, he double-checked the brake on the chair, and then he grabbed the crutches and got himself on his feet in one awkward motion. He managed to swing himself across the small expanse of porch a couple times before he turned towards the stairs. They might have looked like Mt. Everest, but he got himself down, and then began practicing in the yard, his face a picture of concentration.

           

He fell twice. The first time one of the crutches got caught in a hole, and Xander was there almost immediately, helping him to his feet again, silently. Spike nodded to him, a “thank you” of sorts, and kept going. The second time he fell, he simply lost his balance. And when he landed with a thump, Xander was there, offering him a hand up again. This time, Spike waved off his assistance, struggling with the crutches awkwardly, trying not to think about the fact that he had an audience. He knew he’d better figure out whether or not he could get up on his own, otherwise he could be stuck on the floor for a long time if he ever fell when no one was home. Been there, done that, thank you very much.

           

After a few minutes of feeling like a fish out of water, Spike managed to get himself upright again, and swung over to where Xander was sitting on the porch steps. Spike watched him, thankful that the whelp was at least pretending not to have seen any of that. He hesitated, unsure of himself, and unsure of the motivations of the other man. It seemed that it was kindness that was his undoing. Swallowing, he managed a gruff, “Thanks, mate.”

           

Xander stared at him; the words were the friendliest he’d ever received from the vampire, excepting the small conversation they’d had while on the run from Glory. “Yeah, well, don’t mention it.”

           

“Spike?” The voice was Buffy’s, and came from inside the house. “You out here?” She stepped out onto the porch, surprised to see Xander standing there. “Xander? I thought you were sick.” Her eyes traveled from her friend to Spike, who stood, leaning on his crutches. Her mouth fell open.

           

“Hey, Buffy,” Spike said softly. “Guess old dogs can learn new tricks after all.”

           

She smiled at him. “Good. Now I won’t have to worry about hauling you up and down the stairs all the time.” Her tone was light, however, and he took no offense. She looked at Xander then and mouthed a silent, “Thank you.”

           

He shrugged. “I should get going. I’ll see you, Buf. Spike.” The complete lack of animosity in his tone as he spoke the name suggested a new level of their relationship.

           

They watched him go silently, and then Spike wearily climbed the stairs to the porch. Buffy wordlessly held the door open for him and then followed him inside. “How are you?”

           

He looked at her with a touch of his old humor. “What? Now that I’m back on my feet again? Nice to be able to move about a bit easier. Not the same though.”

           

“I know,” she replied. “Look, Spike, I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

           

He looked away from her. “Stating the obvious here, pet.”

           

“How close were you to staking yourself? Regardless of the promise.”

           

Spike’s blue eyes dropped to the countertop, and he murmured softly, “Maybe a week, maybe more.”

           

“Does this help?” she asked.

           

“Yeah, a bit.” He looked down at his fingernails, bitten to the quick. “Pretty pathetic, huh? Chipped vamp that can’t even walk. About as pointless as it gets.”

           

Buffy felt a sudden surge of sympathy. What did he have now? What was he now? She couldn’t think of him as evil exactly, not after he’d been tortured by Glory and held his tongue. Not after he’d taken that flying leap from the tower for Dawn. Not after he sat there, completely broken. “If it makes you feel any better, I probably wouldn’t have lasted nearly as long, if I were you.”

           

Spike looked up and met her eyes with a kind of knowing that made her uncomfortable in the extreme. “No, you wouldn’t, luv. You’ve got too much holding you here.”

           

“Not enough.” Buffy froze, suddenly aware that she’d said it out loud. She stared at him, waiting for him to say something unflattering.

           

Instead, he just smiled, gently, understandingly. “It’s enough if you want it to be, Slayer. Your decision.”

           

His words were too close to home, just as they’d been the other night when she had almost staked him. How could he know of her weariness, of her need for a long vacation from everything life seemed to be determined to throw at her? “Would you like some cocoa?” she asked, changing the subject. “I think I know how to make it like mom did, and I have some of those little marshmallows.”

           

Spike knew exactly what it was that held him here. The Slayer and the love of a child. For now it would be enough.


	3. Unlife

Giles leaned in hard against the punching bag as Buffy pounded on it. The rhythm of fists on canvas was soothing in its own way, speaking of thousands of afternoons spent together training. But it was because of those thousands of afternoons that he knew his Slayer so well, and he knew there was something going on that she wasn’t telling him.

           

It had to do with the weariness in her eyes, the slope of her shoulders. There was something weighing on her, and he didn’t know what it might be. He had the sense that even the relative quietude of the summer had not given her the respite she needed, and while she was still fighting the good fight, there was a complacency about her attitude, a sense of futility, that had never been there before. Spike could have told him what that meant, though Giles had no thoughts of asking him, but instinctively, it frightened both the Watcher and the father in him.

           

“How are you, Buffy?” Giles asked once she decided to take a breather.

           

“Fine,” she replied offhandedly, slurping from a water bottle. She gave him an odd look. “Why?”

           

He hesitated, not sure how to broach the subject, how to tell her of his fears without scaring her off. “You seem tired lately.”

           

It was the bitterness in her laugh that frightened him. The sound of it made him remember painfully the child she had been, comparing her to the woman she was now. It wasn’t always a favorable comparison. “Well, you know, what with the bills and the going back to school, and Dawn, there isn’t a lot of time to sleep.”

           

“Are things so bad then?” he asked carefully. He was trying to keep a careful balance of being her Watcher, and yet giving her the freedom to become an adult. It was the task of every father to learn how to let his children go, but it was nothing that was taught to Watchers. Their charges usually died before they had the chance.

           

Buffy gave him a rueful smile. “The bills keep coming in and won’t let up. I’ve got a work-study job lined up for when the semester starts, but I have no idea if that’s going to pay the bills or not. Dawn—” She paused. “Dawn and I were getting along really well for a while, but she’s angry, Giles. She won’t listen to me, and she keeps pushing me as far as she can. I have no clue how to handle her.”

           

“Perhaps things will be better once school starts,” Giles suggested, his heart aching for the girl in front of him.

           

“And that adds just one more thing to my list of things to do,” she muttered. “How do I do it, Giles? How am I supposed to take care of Dawn and work and pass my tests, all while I’m trying to save the world?”

           

Giles wasn’t sure what to tell her, other than she would figure it out, given time. And that wasn’t what she wanted or needed to hear. He asked about the only thing she hadn’t talked about yet. Frankly, he was concerned that with all the other things going on in her life, the last thing she needed to worry about was a vampire. “And Spike?”

           

She smiled again, a real one this time. “Spike’s fine.” She stopped and then amended. “Well, maybe not ‘fine,’ but he’s dealing.”

           

Her Watcher frowned. “I meant, is his presence too much for you, Buffy?”

           

Buffy actually looked surprised at that. “No. Actually, he’s one of the few things that’s completely worry-free,” she admitted. “It’s not that I don’t think about him, but give him a pack of smokes every so often and make sure there’s enough blood in the fridge, and he’s okay. He’s one of the few things in my life right now that isn’t life and death, you know?”

           

Giles did know, and he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea. “Perhaps it’s time to move him back into his crypt,” he suggested gently.

           

“So any nasty that wants to can dust him? No thanks,” she replied. “Besides, Dawn actually likes having him around, and he’s really not too bad most of the time.”

           

Far from convinced, Giles decided to let it go. He didn’t trust Spike, but Giles was willing to admit that he was harmless, and Buffy had actually smiled when she’d talked about him. Not that he was completely happy about that either, but it had been so long since he’d seen a genuine smile from her that he was willing to take it. Whatever the source.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike was bored. Extremely bored. He hated waiting, and he disliked being patient, but that was exactly what he was being asked to do. Daytime TV could only hold his attention for so long, and he’d watched Joyce’s _Passion_ tapes that Dawn had found for him all the way through. Twice. And now, he was awake and home alone, and he wanted to do something. It was on afternoons like this that the sunshine was a strong temptation, especially since Buffy didn’t keep alcohol in the house.

           

Finally deciding to do _something_ , he made his way carefully down into the basement. He was always wary going up and down the stairs, mostly because if he fell he could be down there for a while, and because with his luck he’d probably wind up breaking his neck. He managed, however, and once down there he started poking around.

           

Spike had been exploring in the Summers’ basement in the past, but not recently. Not since he’d made the incredible blunder of chaining Buffy up in his crypt. Nothing much had changed really, though there were a few more boxes, all of them labeled “Mom.” He avoided those and chose one that said “School.” Inside, he found old report cards, school pictures, notebooks; all the regular detritus of a high school chit. He winced at the grades on the report cards, all of them with the name “Buffy Summers” across the top. Apparently his Slayer hadn’t been a stellar student. He also found a mostly empty notebook, the first page with a few scribbled sentences and lots of doodles of hearts with “Buffy and Angel Forever” written. He almost threw the entire book away in disgust, but the empty pages beckoned strangely, so he tore out the first two pages and stuck them back into the box, keeping the notebook for his own use.

           

Three more boxes caught his eye, all of them “Books.” He hesitated. The Big Bad did not spend his time reading. Reading was not a scary activity; it was a nancy-boy past time. He sighed. The Big Bad had never been laid up watching reruns of soap operas and Oprah for three months. This, at least, would be new.

           

Spike dug through the boxes, finding plenty of Harlequin romance novels and book of the month paperbacks. In the second box, however, he found Joyce’s stash of culture, mostly classics she’d read for her book club. _Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, Tale of Two Cities, Great Expectations, William Shakespeare’s Complete Works, Les Miserables, The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ , all of them familiar titles to Spike, who’d not forgotten nearly as much about his upper-class upbringing as he liked everyone to think. He stacked them up on the floor and moved onto the third box, which contained more paperbacks. This time he pulled out a few Stephen King novels, not understanding why anyone who lived on the Hellmouth would read a horror story, but figuring they might make interesting bedtime tales for a vampire.

           

Once he’d collected a stack, he looked around for a bag of some kind to carry them. The crutches ensured he’d have his hands full. After a few minutes he located a plastic grocery sack, filled it up, and managed to get himself back on his feet. Then he worked his way back up to his room, thinking as he did so that it might be a smart idea to move into the basement. It was darker down there, for one thing, and it might be a bit more private, but it was something he’d have to discuss with Buffy later.

           

Spike contented himself with the notebook and a pen he swiped from the Slayer’s room for a while. He’d gotten to thinking recently that if something happened to him, all that would be left was dust and the misinformation the Watchers’ Council had. It would be nice to leave something real behind, and while he wasn’t sure anyone would truly be interested, perhaps Dawn or Buffy would care enough to want to know.

           

He had written down everything he remembered of his last day as a human, the blank paper calling forth an honesty he didn’t know he had in him. There was no pretense here. More than that, there wasn’t much use in pretending anymore anyway. When Buffy had asked him about the Slayers he’d killed, he’d given her the abridged version, letting her think what she liked of the human William. He’d had an image to protect at the time, but his image was a sham now. He was living a shadow existence, and in a very real way, the words on the paper were worth more than he was.

           

When he’d written as much as he wanted to in one sitting, he turned to the stack of books he’d put on the floor by the bed. Rifling through them, he picked one of the horror novels. He hadn’t had a spot of violence since getting thrown off the tower, and he was hoping a little vicarious blood and guts would satisfy his thirst.

           

Spike was deeply into the novel, which had a high enough body count to satisfy even him, when he heard a knock on the door. “Spike?”

           

“Just a second,” he called, shoving the book under the pillow, and quickly moving the other books under the bed. The notebook he’d already placed in the box Buffy had brought back from his crypt. It had a lock on it, and he could be sure that no one would find it in there.

           

The door opened and Buffy stuck her head in. “How’s it going?”

           

“Fine, Slayer,” Spike said casually. “You back from training with the Watcher then?”

           

“Yeah.” She made a face. “He was asking all sorts of questions. He had his worried face on.” Her gaze sharpened. “Watcha got?”

           

“Got?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow. It wasn’t like he was ashamed to have been reading, it was just that…well, he was ashamed to have been reading.

           

Before he could move the book to a more secure location, like underneath him, Buffy was next to the bed, pulling it out from its hiding place under the pillow. “ _The Stand_?” she asked incredulously. “Wait a minute. You were reading?”

           

Spike hid his self-consciousness behind a show of deep hurt. “I do remember how to read, Slayer,” he replied. “And I was bored.”

           

Buffy’s face immediately softened. “Yeah, I know. And I know you know how to read, Spike. I never thought otherwise.” She hesitated. He’d been a bit isolated over the last three months, partly because he really didn’t want to leave the house, and partly because he kept a different schedule from either Dawn or Buffy. He’d probably be less bored, and maybe a little happier if he weren’t on his own constantly. “Do you want to come downstairs and watch me try to burn dinner?” she offered. “I can promise smoke and lots of indirect sunlight.”

           

He looked as though he were about to refuse, but seemed to change his mind. “Yeah, pet. Might be a nice switch. Give me a minute and I’ll be down.” By tacit agreement, no one watched Spike as he put his braces on or struggled to stand. It was easier on everyone that way. It scared him to notice how easily he’d adapted, how quickly he could work around everything now. It frightened him that it seemed almost normal.

           

He entered the kitchen slowly, leaning on his crutches in the doorway. “You need any help?”

           

Buffy looked over at him in surprise and shook her head. “No, it’s pretty much a one-woman show. You hungry?”

           

“Maybe later.” After giving it a moment’s thought, Spike swung himself over to the island and released the tension on the braces. One swift motion and he was sitting on top of the counter. Buffy thought he probably would have been swinging his legs, except that they didn’t swing anymore.

           

They relaxed in comfortable silence until Spike asked, “So how’s the wedding planning coming? Harris running for the hills yet?” It wasn’t that he cared, mind you, but it was something to talk about with Buffy. Something that didn’t remind him of the fact that there were a lot of things he couldn’t do.

           

Buffy smiled. “Anya’s excited. She thinks she’s found the perfect dress, and of course, they’re working on the guest list and trying not to forget anyone who would be mortally offended if they did. Xander was looking a little green when I left. They were talking about caterers, and what kind of food they’d need for demons and humans.”

           

Spike winced. “That’s going to cost him a pretty penny, I’d bet. Not getting jealous with all the preparations are you?”

           

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I might have before I realized exactly how much weddings cost and how many details you have to go over. Definitely way more money than I even want to think about.”

           

Spike hesitated. “Look, Buffy, I know things are tight around here right now. Maybe it’d ease things up a bit if I weren’t here.”

           

She smiled at him, a touch of gratefulness there, and an odd expression for her to be giving him. “Thanks, Spike, but blood is cheap, and a pack of cigarettes every so often won’t break me. Once school starts and the loan money comes in things will be easier.”

           

“Still, if you need to run me off, just say the word, Buffy. If it makes it easier.”

           

There was a long silence, and then she turned to him, uncertainty on her features. “You were right, you know.”

           

He smirked, and it was an expression she hadn’t seen on his face for a very long time. “About what exactly, pet?”

           

She gave an irritated huff, but continued anyway. “About what you said a while back, when I almost staked you.” He was silent then, sensing her gravity and respecting it. “I keep having this dream, where it was me on top of the tower and I had to jump. And I’m not scared to die, Spike. Then I jump, and all I feel is peace, and I know that I’m finished. Some days, when Dawn is being a brat and all I get in the mail are bills, I wish you’d been just a little slower, or maybe not quite as strong, and I would have been the one to jump.”

           

Spike was silent. He’d known, somehow. He’d seen it in her eyes, the same expression that had worried Giles so, and he’d known. Every Slayer has a death wish. “I won’t be sorry you didn’t die,” he said.

           

“I know,” she replied quietly. “And most days I wouldn’t ask you to. But sometimes, at night…”

           

Spike didn’t say anything, knowing that there was nothing he could say. It was what it was. And life went on, whether you wanted to live it or not.


	4. Poker Face

Spike woke to a very strange sound, like the rushing of water. He frowned uncertainly, and then sat up. Both the alarm clock and his inner demon told him it was mid-afternoon, and much too early for a respectable vampire to be waking up. Of course, that wasn’t what he was anymore. He scrubbed a hand over his face and then reached down to pull the braces on. Looked like it was time to get up, if only to figure out why he was hearing a bloody waterfall.

           

Swinging himself out of the room and down the stairs, he ran straight into the Slayer. “What’s up, luv?” he asked. “Sounds like a sodding river.”

           

The weariness in her eyes scared him. “The pipes in the basement are completely shot,” she replied quietly. “I was just barely managing to keep things going around here, Spike. How am I going to pay for this?”

           

He wanted to hold her. He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms and tell her that he would fix everything. And he couldn’t. Because it was physically impossible, because she wouldn’t allow it, because it wasn’t true. “You’ll find a way, Slayer. You’ve saved the world how many times? How hard is it to fix a bunch of pipes?”

           

It might not be hard, but it certainly was expensive. He watched as Xander tried to assure Buffy that his friend Tito had cut her a deal. Problem was, the deal still had way too many zeros. Again, he wanted to tell her that he could get the money for her, not to worry, but she was off in a hurry, making plans. She would go to the bank for a loan, and she would find a way to patch things together. And all Spike wanted to do was to fix it all.

           

But he waited. Apparently, it was something he was getting good at. And he watched as she came home physically and emotionally bruised from her meeting at the bank and the subsequent fight with a demon. The problem was getting money. He didn’t really have any, she certainly didn’t have any, and no one she knew was giving her any, if they even knew about her money troubles. Her work-study job was providing enough to keep Ramen noodles in the cupboards and little else, and now the pipes were shot. What she needed was enough to fix her basement and then a little extra to hold her over for a while.

           

Spike was upstairs catching a nap, since his sleep had been cut short by the basement waterfall, when a sudden prickling feeling woke him up. Something was wrong. For the moment, he was grateful he had adapted, because the braces were on and he was on the stairs in a couple minutes.

 

As he came down, he could see that the door had been damaged, and the fight caught his eye. Buffy was struggling valiantly with a M’Fashnik demon, and Dawn was sprawled across the floor, looking terrified. He watched as the Slayer herded the thing back into the kitchen and finished coming down the stairs, glancing over at Dawn to make sure she was okay. Swinging himself into the kitchen, he could see Buffy wrestling with the thing, and he was powerless to do anything about it.

           

Thinking quickly, he pulled a butcher knife out of one of the drawers and waited for his chance. “Buffy!” he called. “Turn him ‘round.” She snarled at him, but wrestled the demon so that his back faced Spike, and the vampire let go with the knife, sinking it into his back.

           

“Dawn! The door to the basement,” Buffy gasped at her sister, who pulled it open. The knife had weakened him, but the demon wasn’t dead yet, and Buffy planned on finishing the M’Fashnik off in the one room of the house that was already completely ruined. She tossed him through the open door and followed close behind, Spike able to do little but watch the entire scene from the safety of the stairs.

           

She soon dispatched the thing, but not before it had broken one of the new copper pipes the plumber had just installed that day. In a burst of anger and frustration, Buffy beat the thing with the pipe it had broken off, and watched as his lifeless body floated in the calf-deep water. Spike’s rough voice came from above her. “I’ll call Harris. He should be able to fix the doors and help with the body.”

           

Buffy sighed. Just another night at the Summers’ residence.

 

~~~~~ 

 

While Buffy went about her days as a student and nights as a Slayer, Spike shut himself up in his room and thought. He did have a little money, but it wasn’t enough to truly help. He knew that even if she took it, it wouldn’t be enough to do her any good. She needed real, honest-to-goodness cash, and that was a bit harder to come by.

           

He pulled the metal box out from under the bed and rifled through its contents. It was here that he kept the few remaining mementos of his past. His human past, to be precise. There was a journal, filled with bits of writing, none of it any good. His mother’s wedding ring dangled on a gold chain, and his father’s pocket watch was nestled in the corner. It had long stopped ticking. Bits and pieces, and all that was left of the man they had called William, worthless sod that he had been.

           

Spike counted the bills carefully. Only six hundred dollars, half of what it would cost to fix those pipes, if she would even take the money from him. He bit his lip and considered his options, but in the end, he knew that you had to have money to make money. He needed to make some quick cash.

           

After some consideration, he waited until Buffy went out on patrol to call Xander. Telling him only that Buffy needed his help, Spike waited for the other man to arrive. “What’s up?” Xander asked, coming through the newly restored door into the living room, where Spike was lounging on the sofa.

           

“I need your help.”

           

Xander regarded the vampire warily. “I thought you said Buffy needed my help.”

           

Spike shrugged. “Well, I need your help to help Buffy. You know she’s having a bit of trouble with money.”

           

The man nodded. “The repair on the basement just about wiped her out.”

           

“It more than wiped her out,” Spike corrected. “She needs some fast cash to hold her over for a while. I can get it, but I need someone to back me up.”

           

“What exactly do you need from me?” Xander asked suspiciously. “Because I really don’t think you’re in any condition to go knocking over the Sunnydale Bank.”

           

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a prat. Buffy wouldn’t take money if I stole it from the bank.” Spike sighed, knowing his real plan might not be much better. “Look, there’s a high stakes poker game they play in town. I could probably hustle the money playing pool, but it wouldn’t be quick enough for Buffy. I can get into the game, I can win enough to hold her over.”

           

“Okay,” Xander said. “That’s assuming that you actually win.”

           

“I’ve been playing cards since before your grandfather was alive, Harris,” Spike half-snarled. “I know how to win.”

           

“Fine,” he replied. “What do you need?”

           

“Need some more cash for one thing,” Spike admitted. “Takes a thousand just to get started, and I’ve only got a bit over six. And I need back-up.”

           

The look Xander gave him was less than thrilled. “Why can’t you just give her the money you’ve got now?”

           

“Because it’s not enough,” Spike replied, exasperation coloring his tone. “It’ll barely cover half the repairs, and it’ll be gone quick as that. She needs real cash.”

           

Xander nodded, beginning to see that the vampire had put some thought into this. He had money in savings, and while four hundred dollars was still a lot of money, he had enough to loan Buffy that much. But as Spike had so astutely pointed out, she needed more money than that, and there weren’t a lot of legal ways to make money quickly. While playing high-stakes poker wasn’t precisely legal, it certainly wasn’t knocking over a bank or a convenience store either. “And what about the back-up thing?”

           

Spike hesitated. “If I go in there like this and win, they’ll be on me in a second. I won’t make it out of there alive. On the other hand, if somebody’s there to back me up, I’ve got a chance of making it out with winnings and all body parts intact.”

           

“If you win?”

           

“When I win,” Spike replied, and then gave him a cocky grin. “I’m a good card player, even when I don’t cheat, Harris. Means knowing the rules of the game and playing the odds. Normally, I’m a bit too impatient for that, end up getting bored and all, but there’s a bit more at risk here, isn’t there?”

           

Xander considered the logic behind the plan, and found he couldn’t disagree with it. “I’ll do it,” he said. “But if you end up losing my money, I’m going to collect one of these days. With interest.”

           

“Agreed.” Spike pushed himself up on his crutches. “Well, let’s go then.”

           

“Now?”

           

“No time like the present,” Spike pointed out. “’Sides, game’s tonight.”  
           

A quick stop by the ATM at the bank, and Spike had the money he needed, and then he directed Xander to the warehouse district near the Bronze. “Um, Spike,” Xander said, as they pulled up in front of the building the vampire had pointed out. “I hate to be the one to say it, but I don’t know how much use I’ll be if they decide they don’t want to let you leave.”

           

Spike looked over at Xander with something akin to respect. It took guts to admit when you were over your head, especially when it was someone you didn’t like. “Not about being good in a fight,” Spike explained. “It’s about looking scary. You’ll be fine. The only reason they’d come after me is if I cheated or they think of me as an easy target. I’m not going to cheat, and you being there means I’ve got a friend.”

           

Xander decided not to argue with the use of “friend,” and thought he’d take it as a compliment that Spike thought he could at least look scary. “Why me, though?” he asked out loud as they moved towards the building.

           

Spike gave him the closest thing to a real smile that Xander had seen on him. “Because Red’s scary, but doesn’t look it and Giles wouldn’t. You were the only one that would look the part and might go for it.”

           

“And if I hadn’t?” Xander asked quietly.

           

“I’d have tried it anyway,” Spike admitted cheerfully.

           

The conversation ended as they entered the building, Spike’s face drawing down into a look of deep concentration. The man at the door stopped both of them, asking if they had the entrance money. Spike patted his coat pocket and then explained that Xander was there as moral support. The guard looked at the braces and crutches and then nodded grudgingly, allowing both of them to pass.

           

Xander’s eyes flitted around the room, five years of patrolling with Buffy paying off in his knowledge of how to read a room. There were already five others sitting around the table, waiting for the start. The others were human, as far as he could tell, which made him wonder why they were letting a vampire play.

           

“Spike, long time no see,” one of the men greeted him. “You been laying low?”

           

“More like laid up, Jack,” came the easy reply. “Had a bit of an accident, you know.”

           

There was a look of feigned concern on Jack’s face. “So sorry to hear that.” His gaze sharpened. “It’s nice to know that there’ll be some competition tonight.”

           

It was then that Xander realized that Spike wasn’t kidding. He played poker and enjoyed it, and apparently was known as someone who could give the professionals a run for their money. This could get very interesting.

           

Rules were read, and the dealer started passing out cards. Spike’s first few hands were good, but he played cautiously. The other players didn’t know of his undead status, which put him at a definite advantage. Everyone had tells, but Spike could “see” them more easily than the average bloke. He could sense when the heart rate sped up, or the palms got sweaty, whereas he didn’t have to worry about that. As a vampire, he had the ultimate poker face.

           

Xander, per instructions, had placed himself where he could see the game, but couldn’t see anyone’s cards. No one wanted to risk an outsider giving out information by a sudden intake of breath or an eye blink that was just a little too rapid. He knew Spike was playing carefully. He wasn’t winning big money, but at no point did he lose big either. In fact, Xander wouldn’t have even realized that he _was_ winning except that the pile of chips in front of him was growing larger instead of smaller.

           

The rules ended the game at 4 am, and Jack and Spike were the definite winners of the evening. To Xander’s relief, no one accused anyone of cheating, and it looked as though his presence wasn’t going to be needed, which was just fine with him. As they exited the building, Spike’s winnings carefully tucked inside his duster, Jack came up behind them. “Hey, Spike.”

           

The vampire turned to regard the other man warily. “What is it, Jack?”

           

“That was some tight playing you did in there,” the stocky man said quietly, “but it wasn’t your usual style. What’s up?”

           

Spike was surprised to see concern in the other man’s eyes. He’d played poker with the man in the past, gotten beaten by him, and beaten him soundly in return. It wasn’t supposed to be a friendly relationship, and yet it was. “Gotta girl who needs the money, mate,” Spike replied honestly. “Couldn’t afford to piss it away tonight.”

           

The man nodded, understanding in his shrewd eyes. “Watch your back,” he said softly. “I’m not going to say anything, but word gets around you’re injured like that, they’re going to be after you in a heartbeat.”

           

Spike shrugged. “Let ‘em come. Maybe they’ll get lucky.”

           

Xander watched the exchange, not really knowing how he felt about it. It seemed strange that Spike might know people outside the Scoobies, stranger still that some might even call themselves friendly acquaintances. He let Spike get into the car and stored the crutches in the back seat, noticing as he did so that Spike seemed especially tired. “You okay?” he asked.

           

“Fine.” He took a deep unnecessary breath. “Playing with that kind of control takes a bit out of you.” He took the sheaf of bills out of his jacket and started counting out Xander’s money, offering it to him. From what the other man could tell, Spike must have won over two thousand to add to what he’d brought in.

           

“Keep it,” Xander said as Spike held out the money. “Think of it as my contribution to the Buffy fund.”

           

“Ta,” Spike said, and kept counting. He peeled off a few bills, stuck them in one pocket, and then put the rest back where it came from. At Xander’s questioning glance, he said, “Seed money. Figure I could make better than fifty a night playing pool.”

           

“Can you still play?” Xander asked.

           

Spike nodded. “Think so. Take me a couple times around to find my balance again, but I could do it.”

           

Xander thought for a minute and then said, “Let me know when. I’m not that great, but you can practice beating me before you start losing money.”

           

“Thanks,” Spike said again. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re not so bad.”

           

“Yeah, well, same goes here,” Xander replied. “You kind of grow on a guy. Like fungus.”

           

Spike grinned at the insult. “Yeah, well, just so you know, I still don’t like you.”

           

“And I still think you’re the evil undead. Just so we’re clear.”

           

“As crystal.”


	5. Drinking Buddies

It had been a hell of a day. Actually, it had been a hell of a couple of days. First, there had been those three missed classes, not to mention a quiz, as a result of the little glowing thingy on her sweater. Which was just wrong, because it exploded away in her hand. Then, she’d been at her work-study job at the library, minding her own business and putting books back on the shelves when several very large, nasty demons attacked. Luckily enough for her, she managed to convince her supervisor that the overturned bookshelves were the result of some rough-housing boys and that she barely missed getting creamed by a falling shelf. (The large bruise on her arm helped.) From her job, she’d gone out to patrol and then had ignored Spike as he tried to talk to her because she was just too tired to do anything other than go to bed.

           

The next day she had one class in the morning and then had headed over to the Magic Box to help Giles and Anya. They had suggested she work there during her off hours to make some extra cash since things were so tight. While Buffy had known that retail was most likely not her thing, she hadn’t expected to get caught in some sort of time loop with a deadly mummy hand. By the time she’d figured out how to get herself out of it, she was tired, hungry and irritable, and her day was just starting. She walked out before she killed anyone.

           

It was after dark when Spike came down the stairs to find Buffy on the couch, exhausted and out of sorts. “Some days I hate my life,” she muttered.

           

He listened sympathetically as she told him about the events of the last couple days. “Sounds like someone’s out to get you, Slayer,” he said finally.

           

“That’s what I thought too, Spike, but it’s just too weird. Everything that’s been happening, the only person that would know it is me. It all just kind of disappears as soon as I turn around.” She leaned her head back on the couch. “Do you think I’m going crazy?”

           

He chuckled, reaching out to push her hair back from her face, surprised when she didn’t immediately pull away. “Hardly. Come with me,” Spike demanded abruptly.

           

“Where are we going?” she asked, a suspicious note in her voice.

           

Spike smirked. “I want to show you something.”

           

Buffy had no idea why she was following the bleached vampire, except that she wanted to do something, and she was too depressed to hang around her friends. They always seemed to get so concerned whenever she was depressed-Buffy, but with Spike, she didn’t have to worry about being anything other than what she was. It didn’t take but a minute before she realized that they were headed for his crypt. “Spike, I’ve seen your crypt before. A lot.”

           

He shot her a dirty look. “Yeah, but I haven’t seen it since before—” he broke off what he was going to say, and then continued. “There’re some things there I’d forgotten about. I want to see if somebody took them.”

           

“Nobody took your stuff,” Buffy replied softly. He cocked his head at her, his expression an eloquent question. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your place. I wanted to make sure you had somewhere to go when you got better.”

           

“Thanks, Buffy,” he said softly, giving her a genuine smile. “You didn’t have to.”

           

She made no reply, but walked beside him as he swung himself along on his crutches. When they reached their destination, Buffy opened the door for him and then followed him inside. “I thought I’d gotten everything you wanted.”

           

“You did. I just forgot something.” Spike rummaged around beside the refrigerator, grinning as he came up with a bottle of Jack and a bottle of tequila. “Just what the doctor ordered, luv.”

           

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Buffy said, hesitating. As he shrugged and started to put the bottles back in place, she grabbed the tequila out of his hand. “But I’m not sure it’s such a bad one either.”

           

Half an hour later, Buffy was more than halfway to being drunk as Spike was barely working up a buzz. It took a lot to knock him out, and he knew he couldn’t be too tipsy for the walk home. You needed a good sense of balance to get around on crutches. He was relieved that the Slayer seemed a lot more relaxed as she tipped back the tequila bottle once again, and he figured she was much more likely to accept his gift if some of her inhibitions were gone. “Got something for you, Slayer,” he said, when he thought the timing was right.

           

“What’s that?” She brightened noticeably. “Am I gonna like it?”

           

“Hope so,” he replied, and then pulled out the envelope he’d stuck the cash in.

           

She frowned as she took it from him, and he thought she looked adorable the way her nose and forehead wrinkled as she did so. The amount of money seemed to sober her up a bit as she looked back up at him. “I can’t take this, Spike.”

           

“Sure you can,” he replied. “I didn’t get it illegally, you can ask Xander.”

           

“Is this what you were doing the other night?”

           

Spike hesitated and then nodded. “There’s a high stakes poker game in town. I took what I had and made more. Knew you’d need it more than I would. Not like I robbed anybody.”

           

Buffy was unsure. Taking money from Spike seemed wrong somehow, no matter how he got it. And yet, she needed the money badly, and taking it from him was better than having to ask Giles or her friends for a loan. “I don’t think—”

           

“Think of it as rent, or payback for all the times you paid me for information, Slayer,” he coaxed, hoping that she wouldn’t turn him down. He wanted to take care of her, to do something to help her out, if only so he wouldn’t feel so bloody useless.

           

As if sensing this, she looked at him, and her eyes softened. “Thank you, Spike. I know I shouldn’t take your money, but really, I need it way too badly to refuse.”

           

“I can get more, Buffy. Maybe not completely honestly, like working a job, but I can help.” His blue eyes bored into hers, and the Slayer suddenly realized that he needed to help her much more than she needed his help. It was that realization that allowed her to nod.

           

“Alright, Spike. If you want to give me a hand, I’m not going to refuse. But I’m not going to take anything that’s stolen.” Her voice was firm, and Spike felt a sigh of relief go through him. He would help her and she would accept his help.

           

“Don’t think I could do much of that right now anyway, Slayer,” he replied with a smile.

           

Buffy looked at him suddenly, her green eyes thoughtful. “Are you okay, Spike?”

           

He looked away, his face slightly grim. “I’ll be fine, Buffy.”

           

She opened her mouth to say something, then reconsidered. “Thanks. For the money and—you know.”

           

His smile was wistful. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

           

She reached out and put her hand over his. “I know.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

“Buffy?” Giles called as he entered the training room. “I need to talk to you.”

           

She looked over at him from her stance at the punching bag. “Sure, Giles. What’s up?”

           

Her Watcher went over to take a seat on the couch. “I have something for you.” When she’d sat down next to him, he handed her a check.

           

She frowned when she looked at the amount. It was enough to cover the repairs on the basement and then some, but Spike had given her as much the previous night. “Thank you, Giles, but I can’t accept this.” She handed the check back to him.

           

He looked at her, surprised. “Buffy, I understand if you’re reluctant, but I’d like to help you.”

           

She smiled. “Thanks, and I really appreciate it, but I have the money, Giles.”

           

His face and voice betrayed his surprise. “Buffy, how?”

           

“Spike.” Though her eyes betrayed her uncertainty, her voice was steady and sure.

           

“You don’t know where he got that!”

           

“Actually, yes, I do,” was her reply, as she rose to pace. “He and Xander apparently hit an all night poker game. I double-checked.”

           

“That’s hardly a legal means to get money, Buffy,” Giles replied disapprovingly.

           

“It’s not that bad, Giles, and he needed to do something. He feels helpless right now.” Her eyes softened. “I just wanted to help him, like he wanted to help me.”

           

“This is Spike we’re talking about,” he replied, his voice harsh. “You know what he wants.”

           

“Does it matter?” she asked. “He’s crippled because he saved Dawn.” She looked over at him, her eyes hard. “Would you have done the same?”

           

They both knew the uncomfortable answer to that question. They both knew who Buffy had asked to protect Dawn, and what the result of that promise had been. It was, perhaps, an unfair question. A Watcher was required at all times to make difficult decisions, but his Slayer was unwilling to let him off the hook for this one. She still remembered that he had told her she might have to kill her little sister, her flesh and blood, and while she didn’t hate him for it, she hadn’t cared much for him at that moment either. In her mind would forever be the comparison between his words and Spike’s that night. Unfair? Maybe, but it was her sister they were talking about.

           

Giles was disturbed. He understood that Buffy’s opinion of Spike had begun to change after he’d been tortured by Glory. Whatever his motivations had been, he had shown himself willing to protect Dawn, with his life if necessary. Giles had no doubt that his motives were selfish, but Buffy seemed determined to overlook the vampire’s motivations, concentrating instead on the results. He had no doubt that Spike would eventually take advantage of her good will. His fear was that she was growing to depend on him too greatly, that in the end she would be deeply hurt as she had been with Angel. Spike was not what he would wish for her, and he feared for her heart.

           

As though reading his mind, Buffy said quietly, “I owe Spike, Giles. If he wants to help because it makes him feel better, I’m going to let him help. And I’ll get him back on his feet again.” There was steely determination in her voice, and Giles knew that he wouldn’t bring up the topic again. But he was beginning to wonder how necessary he was in Sunnydale, and if it wouldn’t be better to head back to England. Especially if he wasn’t going to be able to stand back and let his Slayer make her own choices.


	6. Teen Woes

Buffy walked into something resembling a war zone. “Look, Dawn,” she heard Spike’s smoky voice grate out, “I get that you lost track of time, but you could have at least phoned. It’s past eleven.”

           

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Dawn replied. “You aren’t my father. And the only reason Buffy lets you stay here is because she feels sorry for you.”

           

Buffy frowned. She didn’t think she’d ever heard her younger sister speak that way to him. It was downright cruel, and in the end, untrue. There were lots of reasons she let Spike stay, one of them being that he could usually keep a fairly tight rein on the youngest Summers. Apparently, that was changing. She stepped into the room to see Spike and Dawn nose to nose, all the closeness of the previous months disappearing into tension. “What’s going on?”

           

Dawn looked over at her sister, a guilty look in her eyes. “I was with Janice at the Bronze. You told me I could go.”

           

Buffy had, but she specifically remembered telling Dawn to be home before ten. “What time did you get home?”

           

Her question was met with frozen silence from her sister, and finally Spike said quietly, “She got home about five minutes ago.”

           

“Like you would even notice,” Dawn snarled at Buffy. “You’re never home to care where I am anyway. You’re not my mother, you can’t make me do anything.” With that, she pushed past Spike hard enough to rock him back, and he would have fallen if Buffy hadn’t stepped in.

           

“Dawn!” she called out after the retreating figure, but Spike put a restraining hand on her arm.

           

“Forget it, Slayer,” he said softly. “You’re both hot tonight. Deal with it tomorrow when you’ve had time to cool off.”

           

He was right, but still— “Spike, she could have knocked you over.”

           

“She was trying to knock me over, luv,” he replied, his eyes full of a sad wisdom. He had looked that way the night before they’d faced Glory, when he’d accepted the knowledge of his own unrequited love, when he’d told her she treated him like a man.

           

“Oh.” Buffy wasn’t sure what to say to him, how to soothe the wound that Dawn’s callousness had caused.

           

“She’s angry and hurting,” he said softly. “If it helps her to be angry at me, it’s alright.”

           

‘Spike-the-punching-bag,’ Buffy thought sadly. “It’s not okay for her to treat you that way,” she replied. “After what you did for her—”

           

“Forget it, Buffy,” he said, his voice harsh. “If she wants to apologize, I’ll accept, but it won’t mean anything to me if she doesn’t choose it.”

           

Buffy nodded. She understood. “Are you hungry? I was going to have a snack.”

           

He looked away from her, his eyes shuttered. When he faced her again, he was calm, and no emotion marred his smooth, ageless features. “That would be nice, pet.”

 

~~~~~

 

Halloween. Spike sighed. Best Halloween he’d ever spent was when that wanker Rayne turned everyone into their costumes. That had been—neat. All that merry chaos, the screaming. Music to his ears, that had been. Now, of course, there was none of that, and he’d be out with the Slayer trying to clean up the mess if there were.

           

This time around, he found himself alone in the house, Buffy and Dawn having gone to help Giles and Anya in the Magic Box. He hadn’t been asked, but that was fine with him. Last thing he wanted to do anyway was to wander about trying to sell things to the half-wits who could generally be found in the Watcher’s shop. He came downstairs carefully, checking to make sure the curtains were closed. He supposed there’d be plenty of shoddy horror flicks on the telly today; hopefully one of them would put him to sleep since he couldn’t seem to get comfortable in the bed upstairs.

           

Spike was awoken by voices. “Call it a celebration of date-setting,” came Red’s voice. “We really should have a party.”

           

“Because parties usually turn out so well for us,” Buffy muttered, and he was certain no one but a vampire would have caught it.

           

And there they all were, and Spike hurriedly pulled himself off of the couch, grateful that he’d fallen asleep with the braces on for once. “Spike,” Willow said as she came into the room, her voice faltering slightly. None of them were quite sure what to do with him anymore.

           

“Hello all,” he said. “Sorry, just catching a bit of a kip with the telly on.” He had to get out of there, not liking the way they looked at him. Disgust disguised by pity. Dawn didn’t look at him as he passed, heading to the kitchen, deciding he’d have his dinner and then head upstairs.

           

Spike fixed his blood in his usual mug, noticing with some sense of hurt that Buffy hadn’t come after him as he’d half-hoped. Couldn’t be too friendly in front of her mates though, could she? A hand touched his arm and he turned to see Tara looking at him with some concern. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

           

“Fine, Glinda,” he replied. “Be better once I’ve gotten something to eat. Feeling a bit peckish, you know.”

           

“You could stay,” she offered. And then she watched as he ducked his head shyly and caught a glimpse of someone she would have liked to know.

           

“I’ll just be in the way, pet,” he said softly. “Better this way, you know.”

           

“Spike?” Buffy’s voice from the doorway. She came to stand next to him and pulled a package out her pocket. “Anya said she overstocked the burba weed. It was going to go bad.”

           

He knew it was a blatant lie because burba didn’t go bad when it was dried, but it was a nice thought, and it warmed him. “Thanks.”

           

Buffy turned to Tara. “Willow whipped up some magical decorations. We should probably enjoy them before the clock strikes midnight. I said I’d get some snacks and drinks.”

           

Spike wasn’t sure Buffy saw the look that passed across Tara’s face, one of concern mixed with a bit of fear, but he had, and he could sense that it boded ill for her relationship with Willow. In fact, he could almost taste the tensions that swirled within the group. Two years ago, when they’d all left high school, it had been the same, and he’d used the fissures to his own advantage. Last year, they’d been united against the great threat that Glory presented. Now, he could feel the tensions swirling again, mixed in with their own insecurities and their blindness to the others’ pain. He had a sudden sinking feeling that it was going to get bad, and that this time, all he would be able to do was to watch.

           

When the tension erupted again, it was over Dawn, who’d gone off to spend some time at Janice’s house. Even though she was supposed to be grounded, Buffy had let her go, partly to avoid the whining, partly because it was Halloween. Besides, she would be at a friend’s house with adult supervision. Spike knew what happened when you assumed better than anyone, and after Dawn’s little display of a few nights ago, they should have been more suspicious. So when Janice’s mom called and Spike answered, he wasn’t too surprised by what she had to say, her voice shrill with worry.

           

And he was less surprised when Giles and Buffy went off with Xander and Anya and the witches, leaving him behind to mind the phone should the girl’s mum call again. More than anything else, he hated this—this feeling of being completely useless. It brought to mind every cruel thing the Scoobies had ever said to him. That he was a thing, a creature, worthless, a waste of space. Before, he could comfort himself with his strength, remind himself that he would be needed to save the day once again, but not anymore. Now, what they had said was all true. And what held him to this place seemed to grow thinner with each passing day, as though he were becoming not-real. He found himself more and more ready to let go.

           

When they finally came back, Giles’ face was badly bruised and both Xander and Anya were sporting scratches from the bushes they had been thrown into. Willow and Tara had returned about fifteen minutes before, the tension between them so thick he could taste it. Glinda had made a valiant attempt at conversation, and when she learned he’d been reading, they’d actually found something to talk about. Amazingly enough, he’d held a rather intellectual conversation, and he could feel that even Red was impressed. But he fell silent when Buffy returned with Dawn in tow.

           

The girl retreated to the dining room, a letterman’s jacket in her arms. Buffy went to get some ice for Giles’ face. “I could kill her,” Buffy said quietly, Spike listening nearby. Giles winced as he held up the bag of ice.

           

“It was foolish in the extreme,” Giles said. “You will have to talk to her, Buffy. If you don’t stop this now, it will only spin out of control in the future.”

           

“I can’t talk to her tonight, Giles, I’m too angry.” The Slayer’s green eyes glittered. “What the hell am I supposed to do with her?”

           

“Buffy,” Spike murmured. “Why don’t you let me speak to her tonight? You can talk to her tomorrow when you’re a bit calmer.”

           

“I hardly think this is the time to go easy on the girl, Spike,” Giles protested.

           

And Spike’s eyes glittered with a fire that had not been there for a very long time. “Who said anything about going easy on her?” he asked.

           

Spike swung himself into the dining room and awkwardly sat down next to her. “You want to tell me what happened?” he asked.

           

Slowly, she told him everything, and he wondered why he’d never seen it coming. “Do you understand why your sister and the Watcher are angry?”  
           

“Because I lied to them,” came her reply, the sullenness in her tone something Spike knew all too well. She was shaken up and angry, but more because she’d gotten caught than because she was sorry for what she’d done. “So you’re going to tell me I shouldn’t lie and that you’re not angry, and you’re disappointed in me.”

           

“No, this is where I tell you I’m pissed as hell,” he replied, his eyes sparking blue fire. Dawn suddenly remembered why he was dangerous. “I’m not gonna tell you it’s wrong to lie because I do it all the time. Don’t have a conscience, remember? But I’ll ask you, did you see Giles’ face tonight?”

           

A guilty light began to steal into the girl’s eyes. “I’m sorry he got hurt,” she admitted.

           

“Yeah? Well, you ever think someone might have more than gotten hurt tonight?”

           

He watched as she swallowed hard, and knew she was getting the message. “I didn’t want that, Spike. I just wanted to have fun.” He stayed silent watching her, and she finally looked away. “You’re mad because you were worried.”

           

“Actions have consequences, Nibblet,” he replied, his voice deep and serious. “What do you think it would do to your sister or to the Watcher if you got killed or worse, turned? Or if someone else did?” When she still wouldn’t look at him, he took strong fingers and tilted her head so that she was forced to look him in the eye. “You ever think what it would do to me if something happened to you?”

           

And suddenly she was crying, and in his arms, and he knew she wouldn’t do something quite so stupid again. There would be other things, of course, but she wouldn’t intentionally put someone in danger. Not that this time had been intentional, but she’d think about it. When she’d gotten herself under control, she looked up at him through watery blue eyes. “I’m really sorry, Spike, for what I said the other night. And for trying to knock you down. It wasn’t very nice.”

           

“No, it wasn’t,” he acknowledged, because for a creature without a conscience, he did have a pretty good idea of right and wrong. “But I think I’ll live.”

           

She suddenly reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’m glad you’re here.” Then Dawn said hesitantly, “Do you think you could talk to Buffy for me? Tell her I’m really, really sorry?”

           

“I think that’s something you should do yourself, Bit,” he replied. “But you’ll talk in the morning.” He grabbed his crutches and stood, looking back at her over his shoulder. Buffy or the Watcher would have yelled, he knew. Told her that she’d been stupid and that she should know better. The problem with that approach was that she would have convinced herself they were being unreasonable within a few days. Now, he hoped, the lesson would stick just a bit better, since she realized for herself why they were so mad. Of course, she was also fifteen, which meant that lessons like this one had a tendency to fade as quickly as smoke in the wind.

 

“I love you, Nibblet. It would dust me if something ever happened to you. Remember that.” And Spike swung himself off to the back porch, a lonely figure in the dim lamplight. It was that image that Dawn would remember long after his words had faded, reminding her that he had loved her enough to keep her safe at any cost. To a fifteen-year-old girl, that love seemed a heavy burden to bear.


	7. And Again With the Music

Spike could feel the change in his bones. Something was going on, and the best thing he could do was to lock himself in his room and wait until it went away. The music tickled the back of his throat, and all he could think was that it was a good thing his legs weren’t working at the moment, because he’d probably have itchy feet as well.

           

But a vampire had to eat, and so he found himself down in the kitchen when Buffy came in from patrol. “Spike, is there something a little weird going on tonight?”

           

“You tell me, Slayer,” he replied, some of the old snark back in his voice. “You were the one out and about tonight.”

           

She gave him an odd look for his short answer. “Well, you and Dawn didn’t, you know, start singing and dancing tonight or anything like that, right?”

           

“Nibblet’s been doing her homework and I’ve been sleeping, so no.” Spike gulped down his blood quickly, wanting to get back to his room as soon as possible.

           

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice uncertain and a bit worried. “Because there was something really strange going on tonight.”

           

“Quite sure,” he said, swinging himself towards the stairs as fast as he could. This was going to be bad if he didn’t get out of there immediately.

           

Then he felt a hand on his arm, and he froze. It was happening, and he had no way to stop it, no way to prevent what was going to come out of his mouth.           

 

“You hold me here.

Promise-bound, you hold me here.

I kept my word and fell for you.

Don’t you know I died for you?

You hold a dead man here.”

 

The words, the tone, were accusatory, almost angry, the anguish of the past months filling his voice. He could see the surprise on Buffy’s face, though he didn’t know whether it was because he wasn’t half-bad or if the words surprised her.

 

“What is there left of me,

but the promises I made?

I would be dust but for you,

Greet the sunrise one last time.

But my love is like a chain.”

           

Buffy found his eyes hypnotic, the haunting minor key of the song reminding her of what she’d sung earlier. And her gut twisted as she realized that his death wish had gotten stronger, even if he’d hidden it better. Yet she found herself unable to let him go.

           

“It binds me to this place,

and you hold the keys.

I know that what you feel,

can’t be more than pity.

You can’t love the monster or the beast.

My heart that isn’t beating,

would beat for you again.

But all I want to find is my release.

You know that I’m not healing,

I’ll never be whole again,

so let me rest in peace.

Release me from the promises that hold me.

What am I to you?

I’m useless, nothing now.

Why is it that you keep me?

Release me, release me.”

 

The last note was a plaintive cry, and Buffy stood frozen. He was right, of course. She should let him go if that’s what he wanted, and she couldn’t. When she said nothing, he turned and swung himself away, and she eventually heard the door of his room closing. Out of her own mouth came the truth, sung in the same minor key. “I need you.” And she went to bed before any more hard realities could come out.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike stayed put and kept his mouth shut all that night and into the next day. He wasn’t coming out for all the O neg in the world. After that embarrassing display in front of Buffy, he wasn’t risking another run-in. At least, that was the plan until he heard a ruckus coming from Dawn’s room. “Here now, what’s this?” he asked, coming out the door reluctantly.

           

He froze when he saw the three—well, whatever they were—grabbing Dawn, who had let out a little shriek. “Let go of the girl,” he said, his tone menacing.

           

It was more than a little annoying when the masked demons completely ignored him as though he wasn’t even a threat. “I said let go of her,” he repeated, not really sure what he was going to do to stop them. The altercation, if you could even call it that, was over in a moment. One wrong move, and he was tumbling end-over-arse down the stairs. His last thought before he lost consciousness was that he had failed.

           

When he woke, hours later, the sun had gone down, and he was still sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. He lay still, wondering if he should even bother getting up. He’d been right, what he’d sung to Buffy. He was useless. And yet—and yet Dawn was in danger, and he might not be able to do anything about it, but he would try until he was dust or until the world ended. He had promised, and Spike kept the promises that mattered.

           

The crutches were scattered to either side of him, and he bit down the shame that rose as he pulled himself over to the first and then to the second, thankful that no one was there to see. Once he was out the front door, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, knowing that he didn’t have the time it would take to find Buffy and tell her what was going on. He needed to find Dawn first, and then find some way to free her.

           

The air still carried faint traces of her scent, and he followed his nose, swinging himself along as quickly as possible. Spike could have run twice as fast as he was going, but his pace was a bit more than a fast walk, so it wasn’t as bad as it might have been. The music fluttered in the back of his mind, but he resisted valiantly, concentrating on the movement of his feet and arms and keeping his balance, the rhythm soothing him, even as he softly sang, “This promise I made is destroying me. And Buffy’s laughing I’ve no doubt. If only I could die—I’d be free of this life. I have to help her out.”

           

Spike was late. He always was it seemed. Buffy and the rest of the crew had gotten there earlier, and Buffy was already singing. Spike knew what was going on as soon as he saw her. She sang of her death wish, of the fact that she was tired of all the things life seemed determined to throw at her. The Slayer sang of desiring rest and peace and an end to things.

           

“Please give me something…” she demanded of the demon, who shook his head and watched her begin the dance that would kill her.

           

Spike might have found it ironic that she was actually going to die _dancing_ if he’d had time to think about it. As it was, he was amazed that the Scoobies were still standing there, transfixed by her revelation. “Stupid prats,” he whispered, as her dance grew wilder. “Don’t they see—”

           

But if they saw, they weren’t moving, and he hurriedly swung himself forward, out of the shadows that had held him. He had to time it precisely: drop the crutches and grab Buffy at the same time, hope that her reflexes were quick enough to hold him up.

           

They were, and he accomplished his goal of stopping her mad dance before she burned up. “Life’s not a song, life isn’t bliss. Life is just this: it’s living.” His eyes bored into hers, willing her to see what he wasn’t singing. That he’d been broken for her, that he had given her a gift, that she had what he could never grasp. “You’ll get along. This pain that you feel, you only can heal by living. You have to go on living. So one of us is living.”

           

He wanted to touch her, to kiss her. To somehow imbue her heart with all the passion for life she seemed to have lost. But his hands stayed where they had gripped her arms, a cold necessity if he wasn’t going to fall over. The sound of clapping hands interrupted the moment, and Buffy took the opportunity to help him pick up his crutches as Sweet determined who the culprit that summoned him was. Spike gave a snort of disgust when he found out it was Xander, but he kept his mouth shut.

           

He watched as Sweet dissolved into little red sparks and flew off to whatever hell dimension he’d been called from. Dawn started them off on a little group-sing, and Spike hung around for the first few bars before he decided to head back out into the darkness. Hard to do the choreographed ensemble number on crutches. What he hadn’t expected was for Buffy to follow him.

           

“Spike!”

           

“Look, Buffy, just let it go, alright?” He didn’t bother turning around; too much effort.

           

“You stopped me from burning up, and you want me to just let it go?” she asked incredulously.

           

He did turn to look at her. “I let Dawn get taken. I’m—” Spike stopped, unwilling to say it without the music forcing it out of him.

           

“You aren’t. You—” What she wanted to say got caught in her throat. “You aren’t.” Buffy stepped closer to him and touched his face hesitantly. “I touch the fire and it freezes me. I look into it and it’s black.”

           

“All I want to find is a release. Why do you hold me here?”

           

“I need you here. And I just want to feel…”

           

 Their lips met, and the moment seemed frozen in time. A perfection that made Spike definitely reconsider his death wish. Until he realized that something else had been broken.


	8. Wiping the Slate

Buffy was grateful that Spike hadn’t brought up their kiss. She wandered through the graveyard with a sort of aimlessness. There wasn’t much going on recently in the undead and demony category, which left her all sorts of time to consider the oddness that was her life. Part of the oddity consisted of her live-in vampire completely ignoring the fact that they had shared a steamy, scene-stealing kiss. It really wasn’t fair.

           

If he had said something, she would have been perfectly justified in shooting him down, telling him that it was the music, it would never happen again, etc. The fact that he hadn’t said anything made her wonder if something was wrong, if she’d finally gotten to the point where just kissing a man was enough to cure him forever. If maybe he was only in love with her because he thought she was unattainable, and now that she seemed within reach, he didn’t want her anymore. Or maybe she’d done something wrong. And it wasn’t fair, because she wasn’t supposed to be having these kinds of thoughts where Spike was concerned.

           

On the other hand, if she went to him and demanded to know what he was thinking about, why he hadn’t said anything, that would give him the idea that it had meant more than it had. And it hadn’t meant anything. He’d been standing there, looking all sexy and vulnerable, and his blue eyes had been so deep, she’d lost her head. So he was gorgeous, so he really wasn’t all _that_ evil, he was still a vampire. A vampire who was living in her house whom she had absolutely no business kissing. She knew all of that, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t thinking lusty thoughts. Because, as Dawn said, he was a complete hottie. And he could be sweet. And—

           

Buffy stopped herself right there. She couldn’t think things like that, it just wasn’t right. So no more thoughts of Spike.

           

Suddenly she found herself surrounded by a group of vampires. “Where’s Spike, Slayer?” one of them snarled.

           

“Who?” she asked with a frown.

           

“Your pet vampire. Where is he?” another asked with a smirk. “We heard he’d been laid up. Needed to be put out of his misery.”

           

Buffy’s face hardened and she took a tighter grip on the stake that she’d grabbed. “If anyone’s going to be putting Spike out of his misery it’s me, not some sorry excuse for a vampire gang.”

           

There were growls all around at that insult, and then they attacked. They weren’t all that special, as vampires go, hardly a challenge for the Slayer, even five at a time. Still, the fact that they were actively looking for Spike worried her, and as she dusted herself off, she made a mental note to talk to her roommate.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike rubbed a tired hand over his face as he waited for his blood to heat in the microwave. He hadn’t slept since that kiss with Buffy. It had been everything he’d ever dreamed it would be, all heat and passion, _Gone With the Wind_ and the rising music. But it turned out his legs weren’t the only things that were broken. Numb from the waist down took on an entirely new meaning when even Buffy couldn’t inspire him. So he’d ignored their little moment, feeling entirely certain that Buffy would be doing the same thing, and hoping that it wouldn’t come up again. Because he certainly couldn’t do anything about it.

           

“Spike?” He shut his eyes and wished as hard as he could that she wouldn’t want to talk. “Can we talk?”

           

“Yeah, sure, why not?” he muttered, thinking his life could hardly get worse.

           

Buffy gave him a strange look and then said quietly, “I ran into some of your friends tonight.”

           

“They give you a sympathy card to deliver?” he asked, his tone one of biting sarcasm.

           

“No, but they were looking for you. They said they wanted to put you out of your misery.” She reached out and touched him on the arm. “You want to tell me why they’d want to do that?”

           

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Why do you think? I’m a vampire who’s betrayed his own kind to help the bloody Slayer, and now I can’t even protect myself. Vampires are evil, luv, and they aren’t nice to anyone. Like sodding wolves, they’ll kill one of their own if it’s not fit to live.”

           

“Don’t say that,” she ordered.

           

“Why? It’s true, innit?” He stared at her. “Look, Buffy, appreciate the concern, but I could do with a little space right now. Don’t feel like seeing or talking to anyone.”

           

“Even me?”

           

“Specially you, pet,” he replied with a little smile. “Do me a favor and tell Dawn to wake me up when she gets home tomorrow. I’m supposed to help her with an essay she’s doing for school.” With that, he drank the rest of his blood and escaped up the stairs, feeling Buffy’s eyes on his back. And he went back to bed and tried to sleep, only to dream of failure and falling and being chased by things from which he couldn’t run.

 

~~~~~ 

 

When he woke, it was nearing sunset and Dawn had obviously not woken him up, which was odd. She had to do an essay on the Industrial Revolution for her history class, and Spike had seen parts of it first-hand, which was why he had offered to help out. He lay there for a minute, bracing himself for the struggle it would take to get out of bed, finally working up the energy to pull the braces on and get himself upright. It took more energy and more effort every evening, until one day, he knew, there would be no getting him up at all.

           

He swung himself across the hall to Dawn’s room, peering in to see no evidence that she’d even come home from school that day. From there he peeked into the Slayer’s bedroom, seeing that she was absent as well. He worked his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, finally calling out to both of them, hoping to hear a reply, but the house was silent and empty. Worry began to prick at his brain, and he decided to call the Magic Box to see if they were there or if anyone had seen them recently.

           

He let the phone ring about a half dozen times before finally hanging up. There was no way the shop had been shut down this early in the evening, and even on the off chance that it had been, someone should have answered the phone. Worry blossomed into fear, and he made a quick decision to go check things out for himself.

           

Spike was fully cognizant of the fact that if any of his “friends” caught him out after dark on his own, he’d be dust before he could so much as blink. But Buffy and Dawn might be in danger, and he would rather die (in a manner of speaking) trying than to sit and wait, hoping that they would be safe.

           

Not bothering with his duster, which was too awkward with the crutches anyway, he set off as quickly as he was able for the shop. He avoided the short cuts he might have taken a year ago, sticking instead to the well-lit streets, hoping that he would escape unnoticed.

           

Unmolested, he reached the door of the shop with a heartfelt sigh of relief. As much as he wouldn’t have minded finding himself dust, and his sorry excuse for an unlife over, he couldn’t afford to be maudlin as long as Buffy or Dawn were possibly in danger. And as he opened the door to see the Slayer’s sprawled figure, it seemed that his fear had been valid.

           

Spike didn’t bother with the lights; he didn’t need them and he was too worried about Buffy to pause even for a moment. Releasing the tension on the braces, he sank down to the floor with a complete lack of grace. “Buffy,” he called quietly. “Wake up, luv.”

           

She started to stir almost immediately, and he gave in to both his relief and his feelings for her by stroking her blond hair out of her face tenderly. “Come on, pet, time to wake up now.”

           

Green eyes opened to stare at him with a total lack of recognition. “Who—who are you?”

           

The vampire pulled his hand back from her face, his eyes mirroring her confusion. “It’s me, Spike. What happened?”

           

She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything.” The look she turned on him was one of pleading. “You know me?”

           

Spike was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that something had gone seriously wrong. If he had to make an educated guess, he’d say that someone had cast a spell that had either done exactly what they wanted it to or had gone terribly awry. If the first, it was probably an outsider, an enemy. If the second, then all evidence would probably point to one of the witches. Though considering the Sweet debacle, it could very easily be one of the others.

 

“Yeah, Buffy, we live together.” Realizing how that sounded, he amended. “Well, I stay in your house. Bit of a difference there.”

           

“What happened?” she asked, her voice shaking a bit.

           

He hesitated, and then admitted, “Don’t know, but let’s wake the others and we’ll see if we can’t find out.”

           

“You’re hurt,” she said, reaching out to touch him as she saw the braces on his legs.

           

“Doesn’t hurt,” he replied, turning his head away. She seemed to sense his reluctance in accepting her help and so didn’t offer, instead turning her head away so as not to see his embarrassment. Once he was on his feet, however, she flipped on the light switch, and they both watched as the others woke.

           

They were all disoriented, coming to consciousness slowly, and if the situation had been less serious, Spike would have had a good laugh at their positions: Giles drooling on Anya, Willow cuddled up with Xander. He couldn’t help but wonder what they might have thought, what explanations they would have come up with if left to their own devices.

           

There was no time for such thoughts, however. Dawn was obviously frightened, and as the Scoobies and the Watcher began to realize their predicament, voices were raised and questions asked. Spike’s first concern was Dawn, though, and he and Buffy moved immediately to her side when she let out a distressed whimper. “It’s all right, Niblet,” Spike said quietly, trying not to startle her. “It’ll be fine.”

           

She looked up at him, her blue eyes distressingly trusting. “You know me?”

           

“Sure I do, pet,” Spike replied as gently as possible. “I was supposed to help you with that essay today, right?” If he was hoping he could jog her memory, he was sorely disappointed since all he got was a blank look. Buffy put a comforting arm around her sister, and Spike turned to see the rest of the crew arguing in distressed tones.

           

“Hey now!” he called to the room at large. “That’ll be enough of that.” The vampire was pleased as they immediately looked over at him. “You lot alright?”

           

“We are not ‘alright,’” Giles said, with more than a hint of distaste in his tone. “None of us have any memory of who we are.”

           

Spike couldn’t resist a smirk. He was firmly on the high ground. “Well, lucky for you I know who all of you are.” He named them off one by one, pointing to each in turn. “Rupert Giles. Anya. Tara. Willow. Xander. Buffy. Dawn.” He lifted an eyebrow at Giles’ faintly skeptical look. “Check your pockets then if you don’t believe me.”

           

They checked their pockets, all but Dawn and Anya having some kind of identification. Anya found confirmation with the key that fit the cash register and the receipts that had her name on them. Tara, Buffy and Willow had their student I.D.’s and Xander and Giles had their driver’s licenses. Dawn found her name on her necklace. “Since you seem to know who we are,” Giles grudgingly admitted, “perhaps you would be so kind as to tell us who you are.”

           

All eyes turned to him, and Spike realized that he had placed himself in the strange position of being the leader. “Bloody hell,” he murmured. This wasn’t what he had in mind. “I’m Spike,” he finally said. “Got worried about Buffy and the Bit and decided to see if I couldn’t find them. Looks like you lot got caught up in someone’s spell.”

           

There were strident objections to that by Giles and milder arguments from Willow and Xander. Spike rolled his eyes. “Look around, you gits,” he ordered. “Strike you as a regular shop then?” He muttered several other, less-than-complimentary comments, low enough that no one heard him. “First rule of order is to find out what happened. Chances are someone is either using this as some sort of weapon or one of you lot screwed up a spell.” He snorted. “If I had to guess, I’d say it was that last.”

           

He might have gone on, trying to find some clue that explained what had happened to all of them, but a large rock crashed through the front window. “Come on, Spike! We know you’re in there. Come out and maybe we’ll let your friends live.”

           

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. Last thing he needed right now was a bunch of bloody vampires.

           

“Why do those men out there want to hurt you?” Willow asked.

           

He sighed, swinging himself to the window and peering out. “Go away, you sodding wankers,” he yelled back. “Slayer’s in here and she’ll stake your arses.” The only response he got were jeers. “Look, long story short, they’re not happy with me because I’m hanging with the Slayer and they think I’m an easy target.”

           

“Slayer?” Tara asked. “Who—who is that?”

           

This was entirely too much. How was he supposed to explain the whole of the Sunnyhell madness to a bunch of people who hadn’t a clue as to who they were? “She’s the Slayer,” he replied shortly, pointing at Buffy.

           

At just that moment, two vampires crashed inside, one through the window and one through the back door. The rest of the lot screamed, but Spike grabbed the stakes that sat on a nearby shelf and tossed one to Buffy. “Catch!” he called, and was relieved to see that her body remembered what her brain didn’t. Some fancy footwork from Buffy and a couple piles of dust later and they managed to get the rest of the riffraff out the door, Buffy leaning on it to prevent any more vampires from entering that way. Spike quickly slammed the window grate down by releasing the catch, hoping that would keep the rest of them out for the time being.

           

“Why do they want you so bad?” Xander asked suspiciously from his position on the floor. “They’re vampires. They should be just as pissed about the rest of us helping Buffy as they are about you. What makes you so special?”

           

Spike couldn’t believe that Harris would choose this particular moment to get all logical on him. “Because I’m a traitor,” he replied. At their blank looks, he rolled his eyes. “I’m a bloody vampire, you git. I help the _vampire_ Slayer. You see why they might take exception.”

           

In spite of the fact that he had just spent the past fifteen minutes reassuring them, telling them who they were, helping save them from what threatened them, they all drew back from him in fear. Buffy took a tighter grip on her stake. “Why should we trust you then?”

           

And suddenly they were all looking at him not only in fear, but also in suspicion. “Because I want to help you,” he said, unbelievably hurt. “Didn’t have to come here tonight, you know, risking my life for you lot just by walking out the door. I was worried.”

           

“You mean you want to eat us,” Willow said. “I can’t believe we’re listening to a vampire. I think we should get out of here, maybe go to the hospital. They should be able to help us.”

           

“Perhaps you should leave,” Giles suggested, a hint of threat in his voice. “I don’t see how you could be of any use to us anyway.”

           

Spike looked over at Buffy, desperately hoping that he might see something resembling compassion on her face. Because it wasn’t just their words that cut, it was the looks on their faces. Losing their memories had simply pulled aside the façade of pity, leaving only disgust and misgiving in its wake. At least Buffy looked uncertain, but she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to drop the stake or stand up for him. “Fine,” he said softly. “I’ll just be on my way then. Why I thought to help any of you lot is beyond me.”

           

He headed deliberately for the front door, figuring Buffy would most likely gladly step out of his way. Spike was tired. He was so tired, and all the weight of his hundred-odd years hung on him like stones. He had no doubt that it would be over quickly. “Wait!” It was Dawn’s voice behind him. “You can’t go out there. They’ll kill you.”

           

“That’s the point, Bit,” he replied, knowing that she wouldn’t really recognize his pet name for her. “It’s time I end this.”

           

“But you’re the only one who knows what’s going on,” she protested. “I don’t want you to go.”

           

“Dawn’s right.” This time it was Tara. “Besides, Spike could have hurt us at any point, and he hasn’t lied to us yet. We can’t just let him go out and get killed. He wouldn’t stand a chance against all of them.”

           

He wouldn’t have stood a chance against one of them, Spike knew, but he appreciated her words. They soothed the wounds that the others’ suspicions had made in him. “Tara and Dawn are right,” Buffy said softly. Turning to him, she asked, “Is there another way out of here?”

           

“The basement,” he replied. “There’s a trapdoor that leads to the sewers.”

           

“We can go out that way then,” Buffy said, ready to turn and lead the way.

           

Spike shook his head. “Won’t work, pet. I won’t make it down those ladders. If they think you’re in here, they’ll hold off storming the place for a while. Best get the rest of them to safety.”

           

Buffy shook her head. The fight with the vampires who had gotten in had energized her and given her a new confidence. Spike had called her the Slayer; apparently the Slayer was a superhero. And heroes did not let guys who were trying to save their lives die. “The rest of you go on. Get to the sewers and make for the hospital. Spike and I will follow as soon as we can.”

           

Spike was about ready to argue, but a steely look from Buffy was all it took to convince him otherwise. “She’s right,” he finally admitted grudgingly. “The rest of you go on.” When no one moved, he shifted his face, showed a little fang. “Go!” They went.

           

He and Buffy sat in silence, her back holding the front door closed. “What happened?” she asked softly.

           

“What do you mean?” he asked. He was leaning on the door next to her even though Spike knew he wouldn’t be much use in keeping the door shut; there was too much risk in him getting overbalanced.

           

“Your legs. What happened?”

           

“I fell.”

           

It was an inadequate explanation to say the least. “Come on, Spike. I know I’m supposed to know this already, but you’re a vampire. Aren’t vampires supposed to be, I don’t know, hard to kill or something?”

           

He looked over at her, his blue eyes blank and unreadable. “We’re immortal, Buffy, not invulnerable. And before you ask, I should have healed by now.”

           

“Oh.” Buffy regarded him with the eyes of a nearly impartial stranger. Who was he, this vampire who had come to check on her? Who had been worried for her sister and claimed to sleep in her house? “Why were you hurt then?”

           

“I made a promise,” he replied quietly, and Buffy knew that was all he was going to say on the matter.

           

There was another long pause, and then Buffy broke the silence again. “Are we—you know—dating or something?”

           

“No,” he said, not looking at her. “But I think we might be friends.”

           

Considering this, she said softly. “I’m sorry about earlier, about not trusting you. But I don’t know you.”

           

“I know,” he said, and gave her a wry smile. “And if you did know me, you still probably wouldn’t trust me. Story of my life, really.”

           

They sat in silence for a long time. Spike might have been restless, but he had learned to wait over the last months, learned how to be patient. The Slayer, however, had none of that, and she was naturally inclined to action. “We can’t just sit here all night,” she finally said.

           

“Why not?” he asked, surprised. “Once sunrise is close enough, they’ll leave well enough alone.”

           

Buffy shook her head. “Let me rephrase that. I’m not going to sit here all night. Besides, we should help the others if we can. You don’t know what’s in the sewers.”

           

Spike did know; that was the problem. He figured the rest of them could probably take care of Dawn, but Buffy was right. Without any knowledge of what they could be facing, they were much more vulnerable. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

           

He could see a renewed respect in her eyes as he indicated his willingness to allow her to call the shots. “Okay, stakes kill vampires, right? Do you know where we could find something more long-range for you to use?”

           

Excitement began to kindle in Spike’s head. “Yeah, Giles has crossbows and the like in the training room. I’ll look around and see if I can find holy water too. Should be some around here.”

           

He returned a few minutes later with a loaded crossbow and several extra bolts stuck through his belt, plus a few glass vials of holy water in his pockets. “Good,” Buffy said eagerly. “Now, if you could get behind something, you could shoot at them as they come through the door, and I’ll stake them.” She grinned at him. “This could be fun. You do know how to shoot that thing, don’t you?” she asked, glancing at the crossbow.

           

“Don’t worry, luv,” he said, a sparkle in his eyes that had been missing for some time. “I won’t hit you.”

           

Their camaraderie was an easy one, and as Spike stood behind the bookcase, waiting for Buffy to give the signal, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of joy. This was what he had lived for: the fight, the excitement, fangs and fists and sod all else. _This_ was life. At the Slayer’s signal, he called out, “Hey! Why don’t you poofters come in and get me! Sent the rest of them away, so you’ve lost your meal. Come on and take me if you think you can.”

           

His sharp ears caught muttered arguments outside the door. Apparently, they were afraid it was a trap, and they weren’t eager to die. He looked over at Buffy and cocked an eyebrow, and she grinned back, letting the door swing open slowly and scurrying off to one side so they wouldn’t see her. Like mice that recognize the trap but find the cheese too tempting to pass up, two of the vampires crossed the threshold warily. Spike waited until they turned and then let loose a bolt from the crossbow, dusting one neatly. Buffy was on the second in a moment, and he too was dust.

           

The next bolt missed its target by less than an inch, lodging in the vampire’s shoulder, but Spike grabbed the vial of holy water and slung it as hard as he could, breaking the glass on his face and blinding him, Buffy using the moment of disorientation to stake him as well. The last two were through the door and on top of Spike in a moment’s time. Buffy pulled one away and was fighting with him even as Spike was trying not to let the other vampire kill him. The git finally fell on the stake that he was hanging onto for dear life, and he looked over to see Buffy sprawled on the floor, a dazed look on her face.

           

Concerned, he struggled to his feet and reloaded the crossbow, even as the vampire aimed a kick at her stomach. But whatever had floored her passed, and she grabbed his foot and gave it a vicious twist, pulling him to the floor and straddling his waist, a stake poised above his heart. “I’m only going to say this once,” she grated out. “Spike is my concern. If anyone so much as lays a finger on him, I will make them wish they had never been born. You can tell that to your friends.” And then she got off of him, snarling, “Run.”

           

Spike watched in amazement and narrowed his eyes as she turned to look at him. “Buffy?”

           

“Yeah, I’m back,” she said, smiling, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and he couldn’t help but compare this Slayer to the joyous girl she’d been a few minutes before. “Are you okay?”

           

“Fine,” he said shortly, turning on his crutches to close and latch the door of the shop.

           

“Look, Spike, I know you think you’re useless right now, but you did a good job tonight.” Buffy had no idea why she was trying to comfort him. This was Spike, the guy that had been her mortal enemy. And she was really starting to like him. “If you hadn’t shown up, I shudder to think what would have happened.”

           

He shook his head. “You would have figured it out, Slayer. And chances are those wankers wouldn’t have bothered to make an appearance without me around.”

           

She sat down on the steps, elbows on knees and chin in her hands. “We were all here because Giles wanted to tell us he was going back to England. As in, permanently.”

           

“Oh.” Awkwardly, he sat down next to her.

           

“You don’t seem surprised,” she noted. “Did you know he was leaving?”

           

“Not as such, but I saw it coming,” he admitted.

           

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s you, Mr. Perceptive.”

           

He wasn’t sure he should bring it up, but he thought it necessary. “You know Willow was probably the one doing the spell.”

           

“I know,” she replied. “There really isn’t anyone else who would have done it. It was probably a mistake.”

           

“Even so, one of you could have gotten hurt, luv,” he said.

           

She looked over at him. “What’s your point?”

           

He sighed. He screwed up and he was in the doghouse for the next few weeks; one of the Scoobies screwed up and it was forgiven and forgotten in moments. “Glinda will leave over this, you know. She’s been worried about Red for a while now, and they were fighting about magic a few weeks ago at Halloween.”

           

Buffy rubbed her eyes tiredly. The last thing she wanted to deal with right now was anyone else’s problems. Her own had come crashing back down on her shoulders, leaving no time to think of the others. “Okay, again, what’s your point?”

           

“I think you should ask Tara to come live with you,” he said. Before she could object, he continued on. “I’ve been thinking about moving down to the basement for a while now, especially since the pipes got fixed. She’ll need a place to stay, and you could ask her to help out ‘round the house, cooking and such, instead of rent. That’ll take some of the burden off your shoulders, and Dawn really likes her, you know.”

           

“And you really like her too,” Buffy said, with a small smile. “She’s the only one I know who can get you to shut up with a look.”

           

Spike shifted uncomfortably. “She’s a lady,” he finally said in explanation. “Reminds me of your mum, in a way.”

           

He winced even as the words came out of his mouth, hating to bring up a painful subject. “You’re right,” Buffy replied softly, not yelling at him as he thought she might. “She’s got a presence about her that’s really soothing.” She gave him a measuring look. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

           

“Not much else I can do, luv,” he responded.

           

Buffy didn’t say anything to that, but simply reached over and lay her hand on top of his where it rested on the floor. There were sounds from the basement then, and she moved away from him, but not before giving his hand one last squeeze. And it felt like a kiss.

           

She met the others, making sure they were fine, getting a status report from them, finding out that they’d met up with a vampire in the sewers. “Xander staked him,” Dawn supplied. “It was so cool.”

           

Xander shrugged it off and looked over at Spike, who’d made it to his feet, but said nothing. Dawn caught his eyes as well, but she headed straight for hi . “Thank you,” she mumbled into his shirt, her arms tight around his waist.

           

“Didn’t do much,” he replied, managing to get one arm around her.

           

She looked him straight in the eye. “You could have been killed tonight just trying to check on us. I told you, you weren’t allowed to die.”

           

“Sorry, I’ll remember that next time.” Spike looked up and saw that Buffy had pulled Tara off to the side and was speaking in low tones, while Giles stood apart from the group, already pulling himself away. “When’s the Watcher leaving?” he asked Dawn softly.

           

“Tonight,” she replied in the same tone. “Buffy was really upset earlier. She totally told him off for taking off like he is.” Her gaze turned inward. “Dad did the same thing.”

           

He tightened his grip on her slightly, offering what comfort he could. Telling her without words that he wasn’t going anywhere, and her grateful look warmed him. “I should get Dawn home,” Buffy said to Giles and the room in general. She looked over at him, resentment still present in her eyes. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”

           

“No,” he said, unable to meet her gaze. “It’s all arranged.”

           

“Right.” She looked back at Spike, who stood silently with Dawn. “We should go.”

           

Xander stepped in. “We can give you guys a ride back to your place. It’s a long walk, especially after a night like this.”

           

Buffy and Tara’s eyes met, and a quiet understanding passed between them. As they turned to go, Giles’ voice stopped them. “Spike.”

           

The vampire turned to look at the man who, hours before, was ready to feed him to the wolves. “Watcher.”

           

“Take care of yourself.”

           

It was as close to an apology as he was likely to receive, and part of him wanted to spit it right back in his face, much as he had Giles’ suggestion a few years previous that he might be meant for bigger things. But he had changed, and there was a part of him that recognized he was different, special even. That maybe he had something more to give. That same part that refused to admit he might have already given everything he had. “You too,” was his response, the reply of an older, wiser vampire. And he followed his girls back out into the night.


	9. A Gentle Touch

Buffy came down the stairs to find Tara cooking breakfast, specifically, pancakes. “Hey, smells good,” Buffy said, thinking that she hadn’t come down to a morning like this one since her mother had died.

           

“Funny shapes or rounds?” Tara asked with a welcoming smile. “Dawn asked for funny shapes, but I can make whichever you prefer.”

           

“Funny shapes taste better,” Dawn supplied, taking a huge bite of pancake with syrup.

           

She smiled at her sister. “Well, I guess I’ll go with the expert advice and say funny, then.” Buffy gave her new roommate a measuring look. “I’m glad you’re here, Tara, and not just because of the gourmet breakfasts. Though they’re much appreciated,” she hurried to assure her.

           

Since the spell gone wrong at the Magic Box, Tara had been staying at the Summers’ residence. It had been an awkward decision all around. While Tara had been the one to leave Willow, and it had only made sense that she be the one to find a new place, no one had expected Buffy to offer her use of her home. Willow had been understandably upset, but Buffy had found herself to be less than sympathetic.

 

For one, having her memories expunged, only to get them back, had been incredibly painful, not to mention dangerous. She, like Tara, was worried about Willow, and what Spike hadn’t said was painfully obvious: Willow might prove a threat to all of them with her recklessness. This hadn’t been the first time she’d worked her will on the rest of them through magic, and it hadn’t been the first time she’d placed their lives in danger.

           

Tara was a nice roommate to have around, however. Spike had willingly vacated Joyce’s old room in favor of a cot in the basement, and having Tara around had made perfect sense after only a couple days. Tara was sweet, stable, understanding, and a wonderful cook. Buffy couldn’t help but wonder how Spike had figured all that out on his own.

           

“It’s good to be here, Buffy,” Tara admitted quietly. “I wasn’t sure where I was going to go after—you know.”

           

“Well,” Buffy replied frankly, “you can thank Spike for that. He’s the one who suggested I talk to you.”

           

“Spike? Really?” Tara asked, a thoughtful look on her face. “He isn’t what you’d expect, is he?”

           

“No,” Buffy said wryly. “He was much less complicated when he was just trying to kill me.”

           

“Speaking of Spike,” Dawn interrupted, staring into the refrigerator, a carton of juice in her hand. “I thought you usually got his blood on Mondays.”

           

Buffy came over to see what her sister was looking at and was surprised to see a full week’s supply of blood in the fridge. And it was Saturday. “Have either of you seen him recently?” she asked quietly.

           

They looked over at each other, exchanging guilty looks. It was immediately clear that he hadn’t been seen, and no one had thought anything of it. Buffy felt a bolt of shame go through her. He could have been dust and she would have never known. At least, not for a while. He had disappeared into her basement like a rabbit down its hole, and she hadn’t even thought to check on him, knowing full well that his death wish was stronger with each passing day. In spite of his good work at the shop that night, he had been entirely too willing to throw his unlife away.

 

Fear joined shame as she thought of what her life would look like without him. Her logical mind clamped down on her emotions and reminded her that he was a soulless fiend. If he dusted, not a big deal. But her heart was still beating just a hair faster than it should have if she truly hadn’t cared for him.

           

“I’ll go down and check on him,” she said, her own breakfast forgotten.

           

“Buffy?” Dawn said, fear in her eyes.

           

She gave her sister a reassuring hug. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Dawnie.” But as her eyes met Tara’s, she acknowledged that he might be too broken to fix, and she was grateful for the other woman’s presence. Of all of her friends, Tara was the one most sympathetic to him.

           

“I’ll heat some blood up for him,” she said to Buffy. “He’ll need it.”

           

Buffy descended the stairs to her basement, relieved when she saw Spike’s still figure on the cot. Ignoring her logical mind, she followed her instincts and sat down on the bed next to him. “Spike?” she called softly, touching him on the shoulder.

           

He faced away from her, his chest bare, his skin cold, much colder than it normally was. “Spike, you need to wake up.” A moment’s pause, and Buffy said, “I know you’re not asleep, so you can quit pretending.”

           

“Go away, Slayer.”

           

That was it. Three words she thought she’d never hear from him and nothing more. “I also know you haven’t been eating,” Buffy continued, as though she hadn’t heard him. “Why?”

           

“I said, go away,” he replied, his tone harsh. He finally turned to face her, and Buffy was shocked. He’d been pale and drawn after he escaped from the Initiative and come to them for help. She knew he hadn’t fed for some time then, but now his face was even more hollowed out, dark shadows ringing his eyes. He looked beaten, more so than he had at any point in the past. More than when he’d come to them that Thanksgiving, more than he had after he’d been tortured by Glory. All the fight had left his eyes, and that frightened her more than anything. Spike was supposed to be the one who never gave up.

           

“You have to eat,” she replied. “You know vampires can’t starve themselves to death, so I don’t know why you’re even trying it.” Worry made her words come out more sharply than she’d intended.

           

He glared and then tried to roll back over. “Maybe not, but if I wait long enough I might not wake up.”

           

Spike was serious, she realized immediately. He really didn’t care that he was starving himself into oblivion. And she wasn’t completely certain that he wouldn’t starve to death. If he really didn’t eat for long enough, he might get dusty from lack of nourishment. “Absolutely not,” she said, her hand on his shoulder preventing him from turning his back to her again. “I don’t plan on accessorizing my basement with a desiccated vampire. You’re eating if I have to pour it down your throat myself.”

           

His glare was even more impotent than it usually was. Lack of food had made him weak, and he didn’t stand a chance at resisting her. “Buffy.” The word was softer, pleading. “Let me go.”

           

She shook her head, offering him a mute apology with her eyes. “No. I need you here too much, Spike.”

           

“You don’t,” he objected.

           

“What about the other night, at the Magic Box? Or with the dancing demon?” She tried to will some life back into him, not bothering to question why it meant so much to her.

           

He didn’t have an argument to counter her objections, as much as he wanted to. He’d thought he would get away with it this time; after three days, when no one had come to check on him, he figured the basement meant out of sight, out of mind. Spike had nearly been right. He closed his eyes and felt Buffy’s weight rise from the cot. For a minute he thought she’d finally succumbed to his request, but the voices disabused him of that notion in a hurry.

           

He heard Tara’s voice, soft and questioning, and then Buffy’s answer. A silence followed, as though they didn’t want him to overhear what they had to say. The scent of blood hit his nostrils, and he could barely contain his blood lust. As it was, he couldn’t prevent the mask from slipping. He opened his eyes to find Buffy looking down at him, her eyes sure and unafraid. “Hold on,” she murmured.

           

Spike didn’t want to drink, didn’t want to give into her demands that he (un)live, but the Slayer wasn’t going to give him a choice, and neither was his demon. She helped him to sit up and lean back against the wall, and then handed him the mug. The feel of the ceramic in his hand and the even sharper scent was enough to break down every defense he’d carefully erected. He drank down the contents in mere seconds, glancing away from Buffy even as he licked his lips to get every drop available.

           

“Geez, Spike,” Buffy said, her tone as light as her eyes were serious. “You know we have plenty of that upstairs. No need to go hungry in this house.”

           

He shook his head, his face shifting back into its human guise. She didn’t, couldn’t understand. “I’m alright.”

           

As though sensing that she wasn’t going to get any more from him, she nodded. “I have errands to run, among other things today, so I’ll be out, but Tara should be around and Dawn too. I’ll have them check on you every so often.”

           

“You don’t have to do that,” he objected.

           

“I think I do,” she replied. “Look, Spike, I don’t know what all this is about, but I think we need to talk after I get back from patrol tonight. Fair warning.”

           

He nodded, not having the strength or the will to argue anymore. He felt, rather than saw, her hand press his shoulder, having closed his eyes again. It was easier to drift back to sleep, now that he’d fed, but even so, the sleeping left him wishing that he’d never wake.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was awakened mid-afternoon by a serious-faced Dawn. “I brought you some more blood.”

 

He blinked owlishly at her, frowning slightly. “Bit? I’m not really hungry right now, but thanks.”

 

“Spike,” she said, exhibiting the long-suffering of a fifteen-year-old, “you haven’t eaten anything in, like, a week. Don’t tell me you don’t need this.”

  
He sighed. There was really no getting around it. Apparently, everybody was going to be pouring blood down his throat until they thought he’d had enough. Unfortunately, his stomach growled at that instant, so he couldn’t even argue that he was still full from what Buffy brought down earlier. Sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he took the warm mug from her and drank.

 

Dawn sat down next to him and watched as he consumed what was probably lunch. Or breakfast, depending on whether or not they ever let him get back to sleep. “Your roots are showing,” she pointed out suddenly.

 

“Huh?” he asked, licking his lips, yellow eyes becoming blue again.

 

“Your roots. They’re showing,” she repeated, and held a thumb and finger about a half-inch apart. “By about this much.”

 

He cocked an eyebrow at her. It was difficult to be depressed when the Nibblet was around, mostly because he never knew what to expect from her. “Looks bad, then, does it?”

 

She shrugged. “It’s not terrible. I’ve never seen it get that long, though.” And then she grinned at him. “I could bleach it for you.”

 

He returned her grin with a dubious look. “Don’t think so, thanks anyway.”

 

“What? You really think you’re going to impress my sister looking like that?”

 

He gave her a sharp glare, silently telling her to mind her own business. “Not looking to impress anyone, Bit. If you’ll excuse me—”

 

He’d planned on getting her to leave so he could go back to sleep, especially since the conversation was going places he didn’t want to go. “I’m not leaving just so you can start moping again and try and starve yourself to death,” Dawn interrupted, giving him a glare that matched his own in ferocity.

 

“Wasn’t trying to starve myself,” he finally admitted, trying to find a way to tell her what it had meant, him not eating. Mostly it had to do with the fact that he didn’t have the energy to put the braces on, to climb the stairs. It had been easier to just lie there, not brooding, not thinking, just laying there, empty-like.

 

Dawn must have understood some of what he couldn’t say, because her face softened, and she said, “You know, if you didn’t want to climb the stairs you could have yelled at one of us. I would have brought something down.”

 

He shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. “Come on,” she said, abruptly. “I’ll get a basin and I can do your hair down here.”

 

Before he could say absolutely not, she was gone and up the stairs, moving with a speed and an ease that he envied. And then she was back with a large bowl and a box of dye, acting for all the world as though he was actually going to let her touch his hair.

 

His eyes narrowed suddenly when he saw the box though, because he knew Buffy didn’t have that much extra cash lying about, and he was certain that she wasn’t going to be forking it over for his hair products. “How’d you come up with that?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

 

For a moment, he was certain she was going to lie, and then she tilted her head defiantly. “I stole it.”

 

“Right then,” he said. “And when you get caught, the government blokes will probably drag your arse away.”

 

“I’m not going to get caught,” she replied hotly, but there was a shade of doubt in her eyes, and Spike knew he had her attention.

 

“What else have you been taking?”

 

“Little stuff,” she replied. “Nothing big.”

 

A flash of insight came as he remembered the singing demon fiasco. Dawn had been wearing his talisman, even though she hadn’t summoned him. The revelation that Xander had been the one to call Sweet had distracted everyone from noticing what a lame excuse she’d had for having the necklace on in the first place, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. “Like the necklace?” he asked. “What else have you taken from the shop, Bit?”

 

“I told you, little stuff,” she replied, but most of the defiance had gone out of her, and she sat down, deflated, on the edge of the cot.

 

“So you take the stuff hoping someone will notice, sooner or later, just so they’ll pay attention to you?” he asked. Made sense to him; it was the reason he’d killed his first Slayer, really, to make Angelus pay attention to him.

 

She leaned back against the wall with a deep sigh. “It sounds really stupid when you put it that way.”

 

“I’ve done stupid, pet,” he said sympathetically. At the moment he was thinking of chaining Buffy to a wall. Oh, yeah, he’d done stupid. “Look, I won’t tell your sis if you put the stuff back.” She looked as though she were about to protest. “If you can steal it, you can unsteal it,” he said reasonably. “Take it back one or two things at a time and leave it in out of the way spots. Anya’ll find it when she’s cleaning and think someone picked it up and misplaced it. As for the rest of it, just don’t do it anymore. You get caught, someone’ll have your hide for sure, and I’m not just talking about Buffy.”

 

“You’re really not going to tell Buffy?” Dawn asked, relief in her voice.

 

He shook his head. “No, I’m not. But if you’re smart, you’ll ‘fess up. Chances are, she’ll find out sooner or later.”

 

“I can’t,” Dawn replied, her tone panicked.

 

“Up to you,” he returned. “Remember that, Niblet. In the end, it’s always up to you.”

 

She dropped her eyes from his gaze, and then looked back up at him pleadingly. “So you’ll let me do your hair now?”

 

~~~~~

 

Tara was down later that evening to check on him, the third in a string, though by no means the last. Spike was aware that Buffy would be back down later, after she got home from patrol or whatever it was she was doing. And while he dreaded their talk, he also looked forward to it, to seeing her, being near her. She was the sun around which his universe spun.

 

There were days that he wished she would punch him in the nose like she used to, if only because it would prove that he wasn’t a glass-Spike to be protected. It would mean that he was whole again. He also knew that it was only because he had been broken for her that she allowed him to stay, to get as close as he was. The moment he was back on his feet again, he would be relegated to the shadows. He truly was between a rock and a hard place; as long as he was crippled, he could be close to Buffy, and yet he could never _be_ with her. When he healed, he would be sidelined from her life, but he might actually be able to touch her, to give her what she needed.

 

So he sat, waiting for her to come, to comfort him, to torment him. It was all the same these days.

 

He glanced up from the book he was reading as Tara came down the stairs, coming to sit next to him on the cot. “How are you?” she asked quietly.

 

“Been better, Glinda,” he replied honestly, finding it difficult to lie to her. Like Joyce, she demanded the best from him, all the remnants of the Victorian gentleman coming to the surface for her.

 

She handed him the ubiquitous mug. “Drink.”

 

Not daring to disobey, he did so, looking up in surprise at the taste. “What’s in here?”

 

“Herbs. Nothing weird, just stuff that’s supposed to lift the spirits.” She leaned back against the wall on one shoulder, considering him. “You let Dawn bleach your hair.”

 

“She wasn’t going to take no for an answer,” he replied with a rueful smile. They sat in silence as he drank, and it wasn’t uncomfortable.

 

She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Spike, what’s wrong?”

 

The tears came up unexpectedly, choking him. He was not going to cry, not in front of someone. He hadn’t truly let anyone see him cry since he’d been turned, since that night Drusilla had caught him in the empty stable. “It’s okay,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

 

It was a permission, of sorts, and he put his hands up over his face and let the tears flow where she wouldn’t see, even though he knew that she knew. When he spoke, his words were muffled by tears and his hands. “I’m not healing.”

 

“Oh.” He heard the hesitation in her voice as she searched for words to comfort him. “You have to give it time. This happened before, I know, but you have to be patient—”

 

He cut off whatever else she might have said. “Last time I was getting some feeling back after three months, Glinda. Only reason I stayed in the chair as long as I did was because I didn’t want Angelus to know I was almost back to full strength. Could move about more freely if he didn’t know. Now, there’s been no change and it’s been over six months.”

 

His voice broke on the last words, and Tara put a gentle hand on his back, rubbing in slow, soothing circles, like one would do for a friend or a sick child. “Th-there’s a spell,” she finally said.

 

“I don’t think—”

 

She hastened to explain. “Not a healing spell, but it tells you if there’s something preventing healing from the outside, something unnatural.”

 

“And if it shows nothing?” His voice was bitter.

 

Her hand slowed, stopped, started again. “Then it just means you have to wait a little longer. I need some stuff for it, but I could do it tomorrow night maybe.”

 

He thought about it for a moment, realized that knowing might be better than not knowing, nodded. “Alright.”

 

“You should try to sleep,” she urged, putting a hand up to his forehead as though checking for fever.

 

He shook his head in response. “Waking up’s too big of a bitch, luv,” he said with some of his old wry humor. She smiled at him then and might have left, except that he stopped her with a gentle hand. “How are you?”

 

Tara looked at him in surprise and a touch of wonder. “I’m okay,” she replied honestly. It was hard to be away from Willow, but she knew she had made the right decision, that her lover would have consumed her if she had stayed.

 

“You did the right thing,” he said, as though reading her mind. “Red was getting out of control. Leaving was the only option you had left, y’know.” He said it earnestly, and Tara wondered then how much he knew, how much he saw. He was like a satellite moon, orbiting around their little group, never getting any further or any closer, doomed always to see and never to touch. She wished she could wave a magic wand for him, remove the pain and the fear. Bring him in, close enough to touch.

 

“Thanks, Spike.” And they sat there for a long time, two moons in orbit.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy came in late, though not as late as she sometimes had when she had a slaying partner. At this point, there seemed to be more waiting for her at home than there was out in the darkness. Tara was waiting for her when she came in, and Buffy smiled. “Hey.”

 

“Hey. How was patrol?” the witch asked.

 

“Fine. Quiet. We’re still researching that frozen security guard, but so far, nothing. How is everything here?” Buffy asked.

 

“Good. It’s good.”

 

There was a long pause and Buffy finally asked, “How is he?”

 

“Depressed,” Tara replied. “I put something in his blood that’s supposed to help with moods, and we may want to try to keep doing that.” She paused. “He doesn’t think he’s healing, Buffy.”

 

The Slayer looked off into space, fully aware of Spike’s fears. He had sung them to her, after all. And she couldn’t say it hadn’t crossed her own mind. “I know.”

 

“There’s a spell,” Tara began. “It’s just to tell whether or not there’s something unnatural interfering with the healing process. I told him I would try it tomorrow.”

 

Buffy nodded. “That might be a good idea. At least we might have a better idea of what’s going on.” She hesitated. “Tara, can I talk to you about something?”

 

“Anything, Buffy. What’s wrong?”

 

Tara’s large eyes showed nothing but concern, and she took a deep breath. “That thing, with the singing, and the dancing. Spike and I kissed. I mean, it wasn’t a good idea, I know, but—”

 

“Buffy, Spike isn’t a bad guy,” Tara said softly. “He’s done a lot of good things, and he’s changed. I don’t think it’s wrong that you kissed him.”

 

“It’s just, he’s a vampire, and I swore I was never going to do this again.”

 

Tara laid a hand on her arm. “There are a lot of people who would say that Willow and I were wrong to be together. Sometimes you can’t go by what people say, you have to go with how you feel.” There was a significant pause, and then she asked, “How do you feel about him?”

 

“I don’t know,” Buffy confessed. “I like him. As a friend. But what I feel around him is very unfriendlike. Not that I want to hurt him, just that I want him. As more than a friend.” She buried her face in her hands. “I am so screwed.”

 

“Do you think you could fall in love with him?” Tara asked.

 

Buffy didn’t look up. Could she? Could she really love Spike? Spike, of all people? “I don’t know.” And then whispered, “Maybe.”

 

“Don’t be afraid of love, Buffy,” Tara said. “No one knows how much time they have here. Any of us. So don’t be afraid of it. If you love him, that’s okay. And if you don’t, that’s okay too. You have time to figure it out.” She reached over and gripped Buffy’s knee, forcing her to meet her eyes. “But I think Spike needs you right now, whatever you can give him. If you don’t want to lose him, you’re going to have to give him something to hold onto if you can.”

 

~~~~~

 

Tara’s words rang in Buffy’s ears as she went down to the basement to talk to him. She went empty-handed this time, uncertain of what she was supposed to say, what she had to give him that might give him the strength to hang on. “Hey.”

 

Spike glanced up from the worn notebook he was writing in. “Hey.”

 

“You look better.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

There was a long silence, neither of them sure what to say to the other. Pulling something out of her pocket, Buffy came close to the cot and held it out to him. “Picked something up for you.”

 

“You didn’t have to, luv,” he said, taking the pack of smokes from her.

 

She shrugged. “I know, but I figured it was probably the best way to get you out of the basement. No smoking inside the house, you know.” He looked at her, and his silence made her nervous. “Come upstairs?” It was an invitation, not a demand, and he could not refuse.

 

“Give me a minute, Slayer,” he said quietly, blue eyes serious.

 

She watched him as he began to pull the braces out from under his cot, and she did the one thing that was taboo. “Let me help you.”

 

He stared at her in shock, not even believing that she would offer, breaking the unspoken rule. She knelt down next to him. “Let me help, Spike.”

 

The amazing thing was that he did. Sitting back, leaning against the wall, he allowed her to encase his recalcitrant legs within the stiff plastic, pulling the straps tight. And when she had finished he let her grab his crutches for him and help him to his feet, the expression on his face unreadable.

 

They walked upstairs and onto the back porch in silence, Buffy watching as he lit a cigarette. “What happened?” she asked.

 

“I was tired,” he replied, giving her no more explanation than that, but she needed none. When even standing was a chore, she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to move.

 

She didn’t try to give him a pep talk, didn’t try to tell him everything was going to be fine. It might not be true; they both knew that. “Can I ask you a question?”

 

He gave her a look that measured her words carefully, sifting the ulterior motive from the innocent request. “Yeah.”

 

“Why haven’t you said anything about our kiss?”

 

It seemed to be a night for breaking the rules: ignore Spike while he struggles to stand, ignore Spike while he struggles to walk, ignore kisses shared with former Big Bads. “Why should I say anything?” he replied, a note of bitterness in his voice. “It’s not going anywhere, Buffy.”

 

His answer surprised her. For Spike to admit that their relationship wasn’t going anywhere, it was out of character. It was completely at odds with the vampire who chained her to a wall in order to convince her of his love. Spike pushed; Spike didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. “Right,” she replied, slightly stung. “Like that’s ever stopped you before. Come on, Spike, I think I know you better than that now.”

 

“Let it go, Slayer,” he said, his voice low.

 

She laid a hand on his arm. “Spike, I’m not saying it is going somewhere, but the kiss? It was nice. I just—was it not okay?”

 

He looked over at her in surprise, all her insecurities reflected in her eyes, and he couldn’t stand to see her hurting. “It was good, luv, but it was one kiss. Can’t build anything on one kiss.”

 

“What is it, Spike? What aren’t you telling me?” She let her hand drop as he struggled to get to his feet.

 

“Leave it alone.”

 

“Spike…”

 

He stood by the door, his back stiff with tension, and she knew he hadn’t told her everything. ‘What was it?’ she wondered. Was she suddenly not what he wanted? He’d spent too much time with her and had seen her for who she really was? “I can’t,” he finally said flatly.

 

“Can’t what?” she asked, confusion coloring her tone. She stood to face where he stood. “What can’t you do, Spike? You can’t love me now?”  


“I can’t _love_ you!” he cried, pain evident now. “I can’t give you anything, okay? Happy now? You can go tell all your little friends that Spike finally did get neutered.”

 

He went into the house, and Buffy let him go. Hard to make a dramatic exit on crutches, but she thought she’d do him the courtesy of letting him get into the house before she followed him. His admission stunned her; whatever she had thought, this hadn’t been it. She followed him slowly, managing to call to him before he could start down the stairs back to the basement.

 

“Spike.” He paused, as though waiting for a blow. “You should probably get cleaned up.”

 

The vampire looked back over his shoulder. “Huh?”

 

“I know it’s been a while, you know, you being all hibernating, but maybe you should get cleaned up.” She hesitated and then said, “Think of it as a strong suggestion.”

 

“I’ll need to get some clean clothes,” he said.

 

She shook her head. “I’ll get them.” Buffy waited until he nodded and started up to the bathroom before she went to the basement to get clean clothes. It became obvious fairly quickly that Spike hadn’t done any laundry recently; she had to really dig to get something that seemed halfway decent. And she remembered what it was she pulled out: dark cargo pants and a gray pullover. His “normal-person” clothes he’d tried to impress her with. She hadn’t been that impressed, but as she realized what it was he’d done, she was curiously touched. He’d tried so hard and screwed up so royally. The look on his face when he realized that his invitation had been revoked, what Dawn had told her had been said in the Magic Box later. And he’d still protected her secret, he had still promised her, and he had kept his promise.

 

Who was this man? And what was he to her? He was no longer an enemy, definitely an ally. He was a friend for whom she had feelings that went just beyond friendly. It wasn’t love, but she cared. She smoothed her hand over his shirt where it lay on his cot, and then put the rest of his stuff on top of the washer. She’d need to do a load of his laundry when she did the rest of it. Taking a look at the sheets on his bed, she figured she’d probably do his sheets too. She stripped the bed and put the sheets on top of the washer, finally heading up the stairs, a plan forming in her mind. Something friendly and then some.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike leaned back in the tub, letting the hot water soothe. He couldn’t believe he’d actually told Buffy about his “little problem.” His life was now over. She was probably laughing at him, telling herself that it was a good thing, him living in her house and all. Kept her safe from unwanted attentions. He should just kill himself now, get it over with. He was too pathetic for words.

 

The knock on the door startled him out of his brooding. “Yeah?”

 

“Can I come in? I’ve got your clothes.”

 

He hesitated and then sighed. There was no way he was going to be able to get to his stuff unless it was at least inside the door, and preferably on the counter. “You’ve seen it all already, Slayer.”

 

She came in and put the clothing down on the counter, within easy reach once he managed to get out of the tub. “Why don’t you leave the braces off when you’re done?” she suggested.

 

“Why?” he asked, his voice tired.

 

“Because I’m not going to ask you to go down two flights of stairs tonight, and your sheets majorly need to be washed,” she replied. “You can have my bed.”

 

“And where are you going to sleep?” he asked, eyebrow raised and head cocked.

 

“In my bed.” The look on his face turned bitter, and she hastened to add, “It’s not because of—you know. I just want to give you something tonight. Let me help you.”

 

He looked at her, pain and naked longing in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can,” he said honestly.

 

“Then just don’t put the braces on,” she replied. “I’ll take care of the rest.” As she was leaving, she looked back at him. “I’m going to leave the door open a crack. Just let me know when you’re finished.”

 

~~~~~

 

She waited for him to call, pulling the covers down, butterflies dancing in her stomach. What was she doing, letting an evil vampire in her bed? Angrily, she punched one of the pillows. He wasn’t evil, not really. Six months of living with someone gave you a pretty good understanding of their character. Spike was still a bad boy: rebellious, impetuous, stubborn and a pain in her ass. He could also be courteous, sweet, and gentle, depending on his mood and who he was dealing with. But Buffy had noticed that to treat him kindly was to disarm him completely. A gentle touch could elicit more from him than a punch in the nose. So tonight she would bind him to her with chains of kindness; she would keep him here with something akin to love. Because she needed him more than she cared to admit.

 

His soft call broke her chain of thought. She went into the bathroom, and he sat on the toilet seat as he had so many months ago. Nothing had changed: his useless legs still hung in front of him. Everything had changed: she knew she couldn’t lose him now. “Just a second,” she said, picking up the regalia of his crippled body, taking it into her room. She came back for him, and she awkwardly managed to get him into her room and onto the bed. “Why don’t you take off your shirt?”

 

He looked at her, swallowed, did as she suggested. His pale skin shone in the dim lamplight, the well-defined muscles of torso and arms moving like corded steel. “Lay down, Spike,” she said softly, amazed that he would do as she asked, no question. “On your stomach.”

 

It was an extremely vulnerable position, she knew. He wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing, and wouldn’t be able to move away quickly enough if she struck. But the trust in his eyes was complete as he did what she asked, and she knew that he would have followed her directions even if she had held a stake in her hands.

 

But she was empty-handed, and once he had lain down, she began moving strong fingers over his neck and shoulders, soothing away the tension. It felt good to have her hands on him, she would have to admit. Even broken, he was beautiful, and as she massaged his back she knew that she was probably enjoying it as much as he was.

 

Spike had tensed at first, not understanding, not knowing what she was doing, but he could feel the stress flow out of him, and he let out a happy little sigh. He didn’t think anyone had ever given him a backrub before. He lapsed into a sleepy, contented trance as Buffy’s hands found knots and worked them out. Eventually, her hands slowed and stopped, and he could feel her settle down next to him. Cracking one blue eye, he looked over at her with something resembling awe. “What was that, luv?”

 

“That was me saying thank you for saving the world and sticking around afterwards,” she replied. It was more complicated than that, but it would do for now.

 

He rolled over so that he was facing her, both eyes open now, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face in a tender gesture. “You’re welcome.”

 

Slowly, giving her room to pull back, he drew her face down to his and kissed her. It was long and deep, filled with unrequited love and unfulfilled passion. It was a kiss that would never be more than a kiss. And when she finally broke it to breathe, he trailed one cool hand down her face and shoulder, setting her skin on fire. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice trailing off as sleep overtook him. “Love you.”

 

Buffy smiled. Yeah, he really did.


	10. A Harsh Reality

Buffy woke before dawn the next morning, slipping out of bed to make sure the curtains were closed. Spike slept on, the look on his face peaceful. Contented. She lay down next to him again, facing his still figure. A soft smile stole across her features and she reached out to smooth a stray curl. She wasn’t sure what had happened last night, but it had been nice to be with someone, to have another body in her bed, never mind the fact that he wasn’t warm.

           

She rolled over so her back faced him and let him slip his arm around her waist and pull her in close as he still slept. There was safety here in his arms, safety in the arms of the man who had loved her more than unlife.

           

Another couple hours and Buffy rose, leaving Spike to sleep. She grabbed his shirt on the way out the door, deciding that she would throw it in the laundry while she was at it. She was on her way to the basement when she met Dawn in the kitchen. “Buffy, Spike’s missing,” she said breathlessly. “You don’t think—”

           

“He’s not missing, Dawnie,” Buffy replied quietly.

           

“But—”

           

Buffy put a hand on her sister’s arm to calm her. “He’s upstairs. I managed to get him to get cleaned up last night and I thought it would be easier if he didn’t have to go down two flights of stairs.”

           

“Oh.” Dawn seemed to ponder this revelation for a minute and then understanding hit. “Oh. He stayed with you? You let him?” And then an amazed look crossed her face. “You mean you were—? Last night? Really?”

           

Buffy made a helpless gesture with her hands. “We didn’t, you know. Which you shouldn’t know, because it’s absolutely none of your business. But no. We both slept. That’s it.”

           

Dawn looked almost disappointed. “Are you guys going out now? Because I think it would be totally cool.”

           

“Nice to know someone does,” Buffy muttered. Sighed. “No, Dawn, it doesn’t mean we’re going out. But we’re friends.” She looked up to see Tara standing in the doorway. “I have to go to the Magic Box later if you want to go with. If you need anything.”

           

“I do actually,” Tara said, smiling. “Thanks. Was last night good?” Her voice was cautious, as was her question.

           

Buffy suddenly smiled. “It was. It was relaxing.”

           

“Buffy?” Spike’s voice floated into the kitchen, with him not far behind. “Do you know where my—” He trailed off as he realized she wasn’t alone. “Uh…”

           

She held up his shirt. “I was going to throw it in the washer along with the rest of your stuff. Do you have anything else you want washed?”

           

Wordlessly, he shook his head, looking from Dawn to Tara, as though not quite sure what he was and was not allowed to say. Buffy rolled her eyes expressively. “They know where you slept last night,” she said.

           

“Oh,” was his stunning reply. “Can we talk?”

           

She nodded, motioning for him to follow her down to the basement. “Sure. I need to start a load anyway.”

           

He followed her carefully, bare arms and chest rippling with the effort of moving down the stairs. Buffy turned as she reached the bottom and watched appreciatively. ‘Bad boy, maybe, but, damn,’ she thought, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “What was last night, Slayer?” he asked, coming up behind her as she shoved his sheets into the washing machine and started the water.

           

“Last night was nice,” she replied carefully. She still wasn’t sure what last night was.

           

“Nice?” he asked incredulously, his head cocked to one side. “Last night was about as close to heaven as I’m likely to get, and all you can say is that it was nice?”

           

She turned to face him. “I’m not trying to make like it wasn’t a big deal, Spike.”

           

“Could have fooled me,” he replied, anger seeping into his voice. “Don’t play around with me, Buffy, and if that was just pity, you can save it.”

           

“It wasn’t about pity, Spike,” she replied. Then hesitated, and said more honestly, “Okay, so maybe there was some pity involved. But when I said I needed you, I wasn’t lying. I just want to keep you here, and I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know what to say to get you to believe that I don’t want you to leave.”

           

“Buffy,” he began patiently, “whatever I was able to do for you before, it’s over. I can’t give you anything.”

           

She reached out and touched his hand. “You tell me the truth,” she replied. “And you love me.”

           

He stared at her, unbelieving. “What happened to the song and dance about evil demons can’t love?”

           

“Why did you help me against Glory?” she asked.

           

“Because I love you,” he said in such a way that told her she was stupid for asking.

           

“Exactly.” She smiled at him. “I’ve had a while to get to know you, Spike. I’m not saying that I love you back or that I will someday even, but you’re my friend, and I keep my friends alive.”

           

He studied her for a moment, as though discerning whether or not she was telling the truth. “Really?”

           

“Yeah,” she said. “And as a friend, do me a favor and keep an eye on the laundry? We’re researching a frost-monster at the shop today and I should probably get over there.”

           

“A who?” he asked, frowning.

           

“A frost-monster, or something,” she replied. “Didn’t you hear about the museum thingy?”

           

“Luv, I’ve been down in the basement for the last week, sleeping. When would I have heard anything?” The little smirk on his face told her that he seemed to be recovering his sense of humor.

           

 She quickly explained about the security guard at the museum and watched as the look on his face got more and more amused. “Look, Slayer, I know you’ve told yourself that this was a diamond-stealing frost-monster, but first of all, there is no such thing. Secondly, unless that diamond had mystical properties of some sort, chances are it got stolen by some of the more mundane human element.” When she looked as though she were about to protest, he went on. “Demons are all about mayhem and apocalypses, Buffy, not big rocks. Trust me.”

           

“Then what would you suggest, Mr. Smarty-Pants?” she asked sarcastically.

           

He considered for a minute and then said, “I’d ask Harris who makes a freeze-ray.”

           

“You think Xander had something to do with it?”

           

He rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I said. Just ask him, see what he says. If he gives you a blank stare, then you can tell him I finally went off my nut.”

           

“Fine.” She turned to go, and then looked back at him. “I’ll see you later.”

           

“See you then, luv.”

           

Buffy and Tara walked to the Magic Box together, fully expecting to find the rest of the Scoobies waiting for them. “So Willow’s doing okay?” Tara asked cautiously, not sure how she felt about seeing the other witch again.

           

“I think so,” Buffy replied, though there was a note of hesitation in her voice. “I think you were right, though. Her attitude the other day about the magic was giving me the wiggins. And she de-ratted Amy.”

           

“She changed Amy back?” Tara asked. “How?”

           

“That was a little vague,” Buffy replied. They reached the shop and entered to find only Anya and Xander waiting. “Where’s Willow?” she asked.

           

The two glanced at each other and Xander shook his head. “Willow called. She and Amy were out really late last night. I don’t know what they were doing, but Will said she was feeling pretty rough.”

           

Tara and Buffy exchanged looks. “I think we might have to talk to Willow,” Buffy said reluctantly. “I don’t really want to, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

           

Xander winced slightly, but Anya piped up with her usual blunt comments. “Well, it’s about time someone does.”

           

“Willow’s really responsible, Anya,” Buffy said, not wanting the ex-demon to criticize her friend.

           

“It’s the responsible ones that are the worst,” Anya replied. “They get a taste of that power and then there’s no stopping them.” No one had anything to say to that.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Tara entered the house quietly, all the ingredients for the spell she needed in hand. Xander and Anya had been pretty certain that Willow wouldn’t be in, and so she had stayed to help research for a while, though Anya insisted that it was pointless, and even Buffy had admitted Spike hadn’t thought they would get anywhere. The house was silent, and she went into the kitchen to find a note from Dawn. Willow had called and they were going to go see a movie together.

           

The witch smiled. She knew that Dawn had missed Willow coming around, and she felt partly responsible for that. But the empty house was a perfect opportunity to do the spell without interruption.

           

She headed down to the basement, walking quietly. “Spike?”

           

“Down here, pet,” he replied. There were several piles of neatly folded laundry on top of the dryer and in the basket, but his bed was still bare, the sheets sitting in a pile on top. He smiled sheepishly, seeing the look on her face. “Didn’t think I’d manage the bed,” he explained. “Did get the rest of it folded though.”

           

“I’m not surprised,” Tara replied gently. “You could probably do about anything you really wanted to. Did you know Dawn left with Willow?”

           

He raised his eyebrows. “Must have been while I was catching a bit of sleep,” he admitted. “Don’t know that I would have let her go had I known.”

           

“You can’t keep Willow from seeing Dawn, Spike, whatever her problems might be.”

           

He shrugged. “Maybe, but I might have told her to come over here where I could keep an eye on the both of them.”

           

Tara shook her head, deciding it was useless to argue with him. “Are you ready for this?” she asked.

           

He was silent, regarding her solemnly. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he finally said.

           

It was a simple spell, as spells go. Grind the ingredients up into a powder while saying the incantation. Sprinkle said powder over Spike, who was stretched out on his bed. Whisper the next portion of the incantation, while slipping into a trance. Open eyes to see what had been revealed.

           

The mist lay over him, showing a warm yellow over his torso, arms, and head, and a sickly green over his legs. That was expected: yellow for healthy, green for not-so-healthy. What was not so expected was the pulsing green light at the base of his spine where the break must have happened, and the pulsing point of green light right over his head. Where his chip was located.

           

She blinked, unsure of what she was seeing. But understanding dawned, and she whispered the words that would disperse the spell. “It’s done,” she said softly.

           

Spike opened his eyes, feeling as though he’d just been woken from a nap. “What’s the verdict, Glinda?” he asked with false cheer. “Will I walk again?” The uncertain look on her face made his own grin falter. “What did you see, Tara?”

           

“Everything was pretty much as expected, Spike,” she began slowly.

           

He growled in frustration. “Just spit it out.”

           

“I think the chip might have something to do with you not healing.” Silence reigned, and she began again. “You might still be okay. I mean, it might just take more time for your body to find a way around it, but right now I think the chip might be blocking the nerves from repairing themselves somehow. It’s hard to say.”

           

He sat staring at her, a stunned look on his face. “I’m not going to walk again.”

           

“We don’t know that,” she said gently. Then, honestly, “Possibly not. As long as the chip is there.”

           

He wanted to get up and pace around the room. He wanted to smash something, to kill something, to do some violence. None of that was going to happen. Not now, maybe not ever. “Right, like I could,” he replied. “Like Buffy would let me.”

           

“Do you want me to tell her what I found out?” Tara asked softly. “She knew I was going to do the spell.”

           

He looked away. “Yeah, thanks. Don’t think I could say it, you know?” Spike looked at her, and to her amazement she saw a new kind of flame in his eyes. “Don’t worry about me trying to dust myself, luv,” he said. “Haven’t let this stupid chip stop me yet.”

           

She gave him a genuine smile. “I never expected anything else.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Tara was in bed when Buffy came home late, disgusted with the lack of progress in the research department. On the other hand, Xander had actually looked thoughtful when she told him what Spike had said to ask. “Super villains make freeze rays,” he had said almost immediately. “But why would Spike think—” He stopped and rethought it. “I know it’s absurd, but some of this stuff, the disappearing demons, exploding lint, freeze rays, it is kind of like stuff that would come out of a comic book.”

           

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know, Xander. On the other hand, it’s probably a better idea than what we’ve come up with so far. But we’re not getting anywhere, and I’m tired. Let’s call it a night.”

           

When she entered the house, it was dark except for a light in the kitchen. Spike was drinking from a mug and munching on chips. “Hey, look at you,” Buffy said with a smile. “All up and around.”

           

“Got bored listening to the dryer spin,” he admitted. “And I was hungry.”

           

“That’ll teach you not to starve yourself,” she teased.

           

He grinned. “Yeah, next time I get that depressed I’ll just get you lot to wait on me till I feel better.”

           

“Next time, I’ll see if a good punch in the nose won’t cure you,” she threatened him, her tone playful. Then she froze, realizing that this was the first time in a long time she’d threatened him with bodily harm. “Spike, I’m—”

           

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Means you’re not treating me like I could break any second.”

           

Buffy saw the note Dawn left on the fridge. “She went out with Willow?”

           

He grimaced. “Sorry, luv. I probably would have suggested she do something else, but she left while I was sleeping.”

           

“No, it’s not your fault,” Buffy replied. “It’s just—with the way Willow’s been acting lately…”

           

“Preaching to the choir here.” Glancing over at the clock, he said, “It’s late. Why don’t you call? See if they’re in. Maybe the Bit decided to spend the night.”

           

Buffy shook her head. “Dawn would have called.” But she went to the phone anyway. After she didn’t get an answer, she began to get more than a little concerned. “It’s not like Willow to keep Dawn out so late,” Buffy said quietly, looking at the clock again. It was after 11, and Willow knew better than to keep her sister out without even calling. “Even if they did go to a movie, they probably should have been home by now.”

           

“You going to go look for them?” Spike asked.

           

She nodded slowly. “Maybe it’s stupid, but I’m getting one of those bad feelings people talk about right before everything hits the fan.”

           

“I’ll go with you,” he replied, and then put a hand to her lips as she started to protest. “I can track the both of them, Buffy,” Spike said quietly. “My nose isn’t broken. Trail’ll be fresh still.”

           

She hesitated and then nodded. She hadn’t planned on doing a lot of running, and Spike could move pretty fast once he got going on those crutches. “Fine,” she said. “But if you get yourself dusted, I’m going to find a way to resurrect you just so I can beat the crap out of you.”

           

She and Spike went to Willow’s dorm first, thinking that they might be there. While they didn’t see either of the two girls they were looking for, they did find someone else. “Amy?” Buffy said, surprised to find the former rat digging around Willow’s drawers.

           

“Buffy. Hi. I gotta go,” Amy tried to slide past her, but Spike blocked the way.

           

“What are you doing here?” Buffy asked. “And where’s Willow?”

           

“Willow?” the girl asked with a nervous laugh. “I have no idea. Probably just out, I’m sure.”

           

Buffy noticed she was hanging on to various items, and she began pulling them out of her grasp. “What is all this stuff? And what are you doing with it?”

           

“Willow knows,” Amy protested, trying to snatch it back. “I need it.”

           

“You need kitchen herbs, right,” Buffy replied dryly, looking at her suspiciously.

           

“She’s on something, Slayer,” Spike said softly. “Either that, or she’s coming down.” He glared menacingly at the girl. “Better tell her what you know.”

           

Buffy followed his glare by slamming Amy up against the wall. “What did you and Willow get into?” she asked, her tone dangerous.

           

“Look, don’t blame me. Willow was already way into it. I just introduced her to Rack—”

           

“Rack?” Spike asked angrily. “You stupid bint, messing around with dangerous people like that. Lucky you didn’t get your brain wiped.” Buffy looked at him questioningly and his face hardened. “Lose the rat, luv. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

           

Buffy herded Amy out the door and followed Spike as he swung himself away from campus and off towards the darker part of town. “You know this Rack?” Buffy asked.

           

“Know of him,” he said grimly. “He’s a warlock, and bad news. If Willow’s mixed up with his lot, it’s bad. Really bad.”

           

“How do we find him?”

           

“Can’t, unless you’re a witch.” He grinned at her. “Or a Big Bad. Place moves around a lot, and it’s cloaked. Gotta know where to look and how to find it. My guess is if I manage to pick up the Bit’s scent, it might lead us right to his doorstep.”

           

Buffy frowned. “Willow wouldn’t take my sister—”

           

“Rack’s a drug dealer, Buffy,” Spike said quietly, not meeting her eyes. “You saw Amy. If Willow wanted it bad enough, she’d do just about anything.”

           

Spike was as good as his word. He easily managed to pick up their scents once they got to a less trafficked area. “My own bloodhound,” Buffy murmured.

 

He ignored her, concentrating on the task at hand. “Should be close,” he muttered. “Feel it. I don’t—” A scream interrupted them, and they both looked in the direction it came from.

 

“That sounded like Dawn,” Buffy said, horrified, and started running.

 

There was no way Spike could keep up with her, and he knew it. But he moved along as quickly as he could anyway, hoping that he’d actually be able to do something once he got there. Dawn was a crumpled form on the ground when he arrived, and Willow looked to be unconscious in a wrecked car. Buffy was fighting some sort of monster, and she was holding her own even if she wasn’t winning. Spike couldn’t do anything for the Slayer, but he managed to get down on the ground next to her sister.

 

“Let me see that arm, luv,” he coaxed tenderly. “Come on.”

 

Dawn whimpered, shaking her head. “No. No, it hurts.”

 

“Know it does, Bit,” he said, keeping an eye on Buffy and the demon, who had suddenly burst into flame.

 

Buffy was by Dawn’s side in an instant. “Come on, Dawnie. I need to see your arm.” Between the two of them, they managed to figure out that it was probably a fracture and the next stop should be the emergency room. Buffy helped her sister up, while Spike struggled to his feet, and all three of them left, leaving Willow weeping and calling after them.

 

When the witch tried to apologize to Dawn, and she slapped her across the face, Buffy exchanged a silent look with Spike. “I’ll take care of her,” he said, and watched as the Slayer went back to help her friend. “Come on, Niblet. It’s a bit of a walk, but you’re tough.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy and Xander met them at the hospital about an hour later, just as the doctor was putting the finishing touches on Dawn’s cast. “How is she?” Buffy asked Spike softly when he swung himself out to meet them.

 

“Fractured wrist. She’ll heal in time.” But the look in his eyes suggested that the fracture was the least of her wounds. Worse was the betrayal of a friend.

 

She nodded. “Xander’s going to drive us back to the house, and then I’m going to stay with Willow. She shouldn’t be alone tonight.” Buffy hesitated. “Would you stay with Dawn tonight, Spike?”

 

“You know you don’t have to ask,” he replied, his eyes intense.

 

“I know.” She went into the small, curtained-off cubicle, leaving Xander and Spike to wait outside.

 

The two men shared a long look, and then Xander spoke softly. “Buffy told me what happened tonight. It was good work, finding them.”

 

Spike shrugged uncomfortably. “It wasn’t anything.”

 

“It was good work,” Xander repeated, and Spike ducked his head. If vampires were able to blush, he’d have been bright red.

 

“Thanks.” And then Buffy came out with Dawn and a pharmacy prescription, and their moment was interrupted.

 

When they got back to the Summers’ residence, Tara met them at the door, mothering Dawn with her soothing voice, the younger girl nearly stumbling up the stairs in her fatigue.

 

Tara stood and watched Spike follow her up, to make sure she made it alright, and then held Buffy back with a hand on her arm. “I need to talk to you.”

 

“I’m staying with Willow tonight,” she said. “Can it wait?”

 

The witch nodded. “Maybe I could meet you at the Magic Box tomorrow?” she suggested. “It’s about the spell I did with Spike earlier. He wanted me to be the one to tell you the results, and it might be better if I explained away from the house.”

 

Buffy didn’t need to ask if it was bad news. “How bad is it?”

 

The other woman hesitated, and then said softly. “It’s bad, but it’s a little more complex than that. How about I meet you in the afternoon sometime? Maybe around 4?”

 

Buffy nodded. She wasn’t sure how to feel about Tara’s announcement. Bad news or not, Spike had certainly seemed a lot more like his old self this evening, a lot less depressed. He was eating without having to be prodded, and he was certainly more active. So she didn’t think it could be too bad, but the witch’s face told her otherwise, and she wondered how many more blows she could take in a 24-hour period. Not only was her best friend a magic addict, but her new best friend might have something seriously wrong with him of the non-fixable variety. It was too much.

 

~~~~~

 

At the shop, late in the afternoon the next day, Buffy’s heart sank as she heard Tara’s verdict. After spending all night with a witch going through withdrawal, this was the last thing she wanted to hear. “Are you sure it’s the chip?” she asked.

 

“Pretty sure,” Tara replied, an apologetic look on her face. “The evidence seemed clear.”

 

Xander shook his head. “Poor guy. I feel kind of sorry for him. I mean, now he’s stuck like that. It’s not like we would let him, but it’s not even possible. There’s no way we could contact the Initiative to get the chip out.”

 

“I don’t know, Xander,” Buffy said slowly. “I think I might be able to get in touch with Riley if I really needed to.”

 

He looked alarmed. “But you wouldn’t. The chip is the only thing holding him back, Buffy. I get that it sucks to be him, but we’re not gonna let a murderer loose just because his legs won’t work.”

 

Tara broke in unexpectedly. “I’m not sure that’s our choice to make. It’s Spike’s body.”

 

Xander shook his head. This was unreal; they were actually talking about helping Spike get that chip out of his head. “And what’s to stop him from killing all of us?” he demanded.

 

“What stopped him from letting us all get killed by Glory?” Buffy asked quietly, her mind made up. “Look, whatever Spike’s reaction to getting that thing out might be, he wouldn’t hurt any of us. Assuming we actually managed to do it, I think he would leave town if I asked him to, and I can’t worry about what goes on outside Sunnydale.” She stared Xander in the eye. “Besides, Tara’s right. It’s his body, his decision.”

 

Xander shook his head, unwilling to admit that the two girls might be right. If there was anything he understood, it was that vampires were bad. In the end, it didn’t really matter if said vampire had a soul, a chip, or some other sort of leash, because they were evil. And if you let them, they would kill you and everyone you loved.

 

But even he had to admit that Spike had changed, and he really did seem to feel something for Buffy and Dawn. Evil undead, he might be, but Spike had done a lot for all of them, and they probably at least owed him the courtesy of letting him decide his own fate. Besides, Xander didn’t think that Buffy would be able to contact Riley or convince him to take the chip out of Spike’s head. Riley hated the vampire more than Xander ever had, and that was saying something. “All right, Buf. Your call. But I still think even giving him the option is a bad idea.”

 

Buffy looked over at Anya who shrugged noncommittally. “I know what Xander says about demons not changing, but I’ve met plenty of demons, and I’ve known a few who’ve changed. Maybe not vampires,” she admitted. “But I’ve seen enough to know it might be possible.”

 

Tara nodded. “I think it might be more than possible. Spike’s been changing slowly for a long time now, but there’s definitely been a shift in his aura.” She looked over at Buffy. “He seemed pretty certain that you wouldn’t let him get the chip out, though.”

 

Buffy stared at the bookshelves, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “He has good reason to think that. But I’ve made deals with him in the past, and he’s never let me down.” She smiled suddenly. “He always comes back, but he keeps his end of the bargain.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was sitting on the back porch, smoking, when he sensed Buffy’s presence behind him. “Tara told you.”

 

“How’s Dawn?”

 

Spike sighed. It was like her to avoid a painful subject by switching to something a little more mundane. “She’s fine. Her arm still hurts though, so I made her a bite to eat and had her take one of those little white pills. She’s sleeping.”

 

“Thanks for staying with her last night.”

 

Spike had stayed with her until she’d fallen asleep, and then had spent the night in Buffy’s room, close by in case she needed him for anything. Tara had told the Slayer he reminded her of a mother hen with a wounded chick, a comparison she had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate. But Buffy had never thought of him as a mother hen; maybe more of a guard dog: fiercely protective and loyal.

 

“You know you only have to ask, luv,” he replied, blowing a smoke ring experimentally.

 

Buffy couldn’t avoid the subject any longer, she knew. “Tara told us.”

 

“Don’t feel bad,” he said before she could go on. “Still wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

 

“I know,” she replied, somehow certain that it was the absolute truth. “What if we could get the chip out?”

 

He stared at her in shock. She sat next to him, only a few inches away, looking unflinchingly into the eyes of the vampire she’d just suggested she would set free. “Not possible,” he stated flatly.

 

“It might be.” She looked away from the intensity of his eyes. “If I could contact Riley… It’s not a given, Spike, but I’d be willing to try.”

 

“You’re saying you’re going to?” he asked incredulously.

 

“I’m saying it’s up to you,” she said.

 

He dropped his head, looked at the cigarette he held, now burned down to the filter. He flicked it away out into the yard and lit another to cover his confusion. “What’s the deal then?”

 

“If you want me to try to contact the Initiative, I will. If the chip comes out, you leave Sunnydale, and I mean for good this time.” Buffy’s jaw clenched at the thought of never seeing him again. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me or any of the rest of us, but I don’t want to have to stake you. What you do outside this town is up to you.”

 

“And if I say no? If I don’t want the chip out?” he asked.

 

Buffy was surprised at the question. She’d thought it would be a no-brainer for him, no other options necessary. “If you say no,” she said slowly, “then our deal still stands. You have a place here for as long as you need one.”

 

Spike wasn’t sure she was serious, or if she knew what she was saying. Someday, he was certain, she’d meet some nice bloke and want to get married and have kiddies of her own. On that day, he would no longer be welcome. On that day, should he still be crippled, he would meet the sun.

 

But the decision was a no-brainer, though it was not easy for the reason Buffy thought it would be. “You can take all the time you want to decide, Spike,” she said, rising to leave. “Just let me know.”

 

“I don’t need any time, Buffy.” Slowly, clumsily, he stood and straightened, dignity lying like a mantle over his shoulders. “Chip stays.”

 

“Are you sure?” she asked, almost breathless with the shock of it.

 

“Yeah,” he said, and before she could question why, he answered. “I don’t leave, Buffy, not the people I love. For your information, I don’t think I’d go back to killing. It’s not who I am anymore, but I understand why you’d ask me to leave. And I’d go, because I don’t hurt you. Never you.”

 

He smiled, and the look in his eyes was infinitely tender. “I’d rather be a cripple and stay by your side, helping when I can, than be whole and too far away to make any difference at all.”

 

The sacrifice of his choice took her breath away. There had been no one in the past who would choose to be helpless, choose to give up everything to be close. Even Angel, as much as they had loved one another, had not stayed, knowing the sacrifice they would both make. Perhaps he had been right, but his leaving had still brought pain. This only brought a certain quiet joy, knowing that there was one person in all the world who would remain with her.

 

She lifted one hand and ran it along the side of his face, cupping his cheek as he closed his eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

 

“For what?” he asked, surprised that she would say it. Surprised that his choice, which took no burden from her, had made her grateful.

 

“For staying,” she said, kissing him chastely on the lips before going inside.


	11. Disappearing Act

It was amazing how much easier it was to get up in the mornings now that he knew that it was the chip’s fault he wasn’t walking yet. Perhaps it was because he’d never been very good at being patient, and waiting to heal required too much of it. Maybe it was because he had finally accepted that he wasn’t going to get any better and had made his peace with it. And maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was now his choice, not some freak accident. He had chosen not to get the chip out in order to stay with Buffy. It was up to him to live with it now.

           

He’d had a hard time sleeping, and had decided that getting up to see Dawn and Buffy off would be a better use of his time than just lying in bed and wishing he could get to sleep. So he pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a blue collared shirt. “Normal people clothes” was what the Nibblet had called them. It wasn’t like he was trying to impress Buffy or anything, but there were days when it was nice to pretend to be something other than the Big Bad. And it didn’t hurt his feelings any when he caught her checking him out.

           

Spike entered the kitchen to find it empty. He checked the clock, figuring that Tara had already left for class, and the noises from upstairs told him Buffy was awake and probably getting cleaned up. But the Niblet—

           

“Hey,” she said, breezing into the kitchen.

           

He raised an eyebrow. “Running a bit late, aren’t we?”

           

She rolled her eyes at him and reached into the fridge for the juice. “I’m okay. I just forgot to set the alarm clock. Tara woke me up.”

           

“Better eat something,” he said. “Harris’ll be here any minute now.”

           

“And speak of the devil,” Xander said from the kitchen doorway. “You about ready, Dawnster?”

           

“I gotta grab my bag,” she replied. Spike stopped her before she could leave, handing her a package of pop tarts. “I’m not eating these, Spike. Do you know how many calories they have?”

           

“Then next time don’t forget to set the alarm,” he replied, not at all fazed. “You get up early enough, you can eat a healthy breakfast like you should anyway.” Spike shook his head as she flounced out of the kitchen.

           

“We still on for tonight?” Xander asked, walking out towards the front door with the vampire, while they waited for Dawn to be ready.

           

Spike pretended to think about it. “Well, I don’t know, Harris, what with my busy social calendar and all.” He smirked. “Yeah, we’re on. After I beat the socks off you, I’ll move on to bigger and better targets.”

           

Xander looked skeptical. “We’ll see. I’d like to see you win at pool while trying to balance on those things,” he said, pointing at the crutches.

           

The other man shrugged, levity gone. “Gotta try. Figure I could make some decent cash that way. Help the Slayer out a bit.”

           

To his credit, Xander had ceased to be surprised at Spike’s willingness to help Buffy, or even to question his motives. Finding out that the vampire had refused to even let her try to get the chip out had silenced him. Not that he was going to say anything nice about Spike, but he wasn’t going out of his way to be mean either. It had actually been his suggestion that they go to the Bronze and play pool, see if Spike could really hold his own before he put any money on it. Besides, Anya was beginning to drive him crazy with her wedding obsessions, and he was feeling the need for a little “guy-time” even if it was with Spike.

           

Dawn came down the stairs then with her bag, and Xander got ready to open the front door, Spike standing back to avoid getting singed. “You’ll come right home, Bit?” he asked.

           

She rolled her eyes again, but more because it was expected than because she was truly annoyed. “No, I’m going to go out and rob someone blind. Yes, I’ll be home. I’ve got that essay to work on, and you promised to help me.”

           

“I did at that.” Spike watched as Xander pulled open the front door to reveal a short, slightly plump, middle-aged woman. “Can I help you?” he asked uncertainly.

           

She looked from him to Dawn to Xander and back to Dawn. “I take it you’re Dawn Summers.”

           

“Um, yeah,” Dawn replied.

           

“I’m Doris Kroeger from Social Services. I was supposed to have a meeting with Buffy Summers?”

           

Spike shared a quick, panicked look with Xander before sticking his hand out for her to shake, giving thanks to the Powers That Be that she was blocking the sun. “I’m William. Buffy’s upstairs getting ready but I’m sure she’ll be right down.” Turning to Xander, he mouthed, “Call Buffy.” Out loud he said, “See you tonight, Harris. We’ll work on that essay after school today, Dawn.”

           

As she stepped inside, he pushed the door closed behind her. He needed William to make this work. He needed to not bollocks this up. “Would you like some coffee? There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen.”

           

She frowned slightly, but nodded. “That would be nice.”

           

He watched as she looked around the house, and he knew she was taking mental notes. If he didn’t tread very softly, he could end up ruining things for Buffy, and that’s the last thing he wanted. “Can I pour?” he asked, taking down a mug.

           

As though realizing for the first time that he was crippled, she moved forward quickly. “No, I can get it.” Ms. Kroeger finally smiled at him. “Do you live here?” she asked.

           

Spike moved over to the kitchen island and pulled himself up on one of the stools. “Actually, I do. While I realize how that must look to you, I assure you Buffy and I are only friends.” He gave her his most sincere look. “If she hadn’t been there for me after the accident, I don’t know what I would have done. I don’t think I would have made it.”

           

Just then the phone rang, and he was relieved when it stopped after the first ring. “Then you’ve been staying here for a while,” the social worker said, glancing around the kitchen. Spike was grateful that Tara had cleaned up before leaving.

 

“About six months,” he replied honestly. “I didn’t have a place to stay right after, and the doctors said it wouldn’t be good to be on my own for the first bit. Buffy and I have known each other since she was in high school, and I knew Joyce quite well.”

 

She looked interested. “You were friends with Mrs. Summers?”

 

“Yeah,” and he didn’t have to fake the wave of grief that washed over his features. “She was an incredible lady. Treated me like one of her own, really.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Kroeger murmured sympathetically. “I realize it must have been terribly hard.”

 

“Hardest on Dawn,” he said. “I know her grades and attendance slipped for a while, but I’ve been helping her with her school work, and we’ve all tried to make sure someone’s there for her.”

 

“Of course,” Mrs. Kroeger still looked a little skeptical, but seemed to be wilting under Spike’s sincerity. He wasn’t a master vampire for nothing, but there were times he wished he could do thrall like Dru. Just look her in the eyes and have her go away without a second thought about the Summers. But he’d never had the patience to learn, and had always relied on his stunning charm. “So it’s only you and Miss Summers, along with Dawn.”

 

Spike silently prayed that honesty would actually turn out to be the best policy. “Tara’s staying with us as well.”

 

“There’s another girl living here?” The woman was sounding more and more skeptical by the moment, and Spike was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t ruined the whole thing.

 

“A friend of Buffy’s from college,” he explained. “She and Dawn are really close, and she’s an incredible cook. Between the three of us, someone’s pretty much always here for Dawn when she gets home from school and to make sure she’s got a good dinner and the like.”

 

“Oh.” Ms. Kroeger had unbent just the slightest. “It certainly sounds like there are people who care about her.” She hesitated, a look of guilty curiosity crossing her face. “Would you mind telling me what happened to you? The accident, I mean.”

 

Spike froze. He hadn’t thought she’d ask, couldn’t think of what to say to explain. ‘Well, you see, I fell off this tower in order to save the Bit along with Buffy and the rest of the world.’ Not bloody likely.

 

“Actually, William got hurt saving Dawn’s life,” Buffy said from the doorway. She stepped into the kitchen. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I’ve been trying to study for finals this week, and our meeting completely slipped my mind.” Buffy gave silent thanks for Spike’s quick thinking and Xander’s phone call. It had given her time to compose herself and to come in confidently, rather than flustered.

 

Luckily for her, Ms. Kroeger had been completely caught by the first half of her entrance, disregarding the second bit. “You saved Dawn’s life?” she asked Spike in surprise.

 

Spike didn’t know what to say. While he _had_ saved her life, he wasn’t sure how to answer that question without sounding like a complete loon. “Oh, he’s just modest,” Buffy said, coming over to stand next to him. “Dawn was crossing the street and there was an on-coming car she didn’t see. William pushed her out of the way. It’s a miracle he’s even alive.”

 

“Oh, well,” Doris Kroeger said, a little breathlessly. She wasn’t a bad woman at heart, and she had a soft spot for good-looking men. Especially handsome men who were true heroes. And really, Dawn’s absences had been declining this semester, and her grades were definitely improving, quite possibly due to the nice British man who was looking at her with such a charming smile. Really, they were all doing their best, weren’t they? She asked Buffy a few questions, encouraged her to call if she needed anything, and left.

 

Spike broke out into a large grin once he was sure she was gone. “Bloody hell, I’m glad that’s over with.”

 

“I’ll second that,” Buffy muttered, leaning against the door as though preventing Doris Kroeger’s re-entrance. She looked over at Spike. “Thank you.”

 

“It wasn’t anything,” he replied, looking slightly embarrassed. Then he gave her one of his patented smirks. “Not even a social services dragon is immune to my charm.”

 

Buffy gave him a mischievous smile. “She’s not the only one.” And she walked back to the kitchen, laughing quietly at the stunned look on his face.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy knew exactly what kind of near escape she’d had. She hadn’t been lying to the Kroeger woman. She did have a final she was studying for, and she had let the appointment completely slip her mind. But she also knew that Dawn’s rising grades and near-perfect attendance this last semester was due mainly to Tara and Spike’s eagle eyes. Both of them had been more than willing to pick up the slack caused by her trying to be mom and Slayer and student all at the same time.

 

Buffy looked into the mirror as she brushed her hair, looking at the length of it. It would be nice to go shorter, she realized, something easier to take care of that would fit in with the busyness that was her life. Maybe she should get it cut after class, surprise everyone, be a little different. If she couldn’t change her life, maybe she could change her appearance.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike put the cap on his pen and glanced down at the few remaining blank pages. Another block of time and he would fill the notebook completely. He’d have to see about having the Bit or Buffy pick up another one for him. The writing came more easily for him than he’d expected, the words flowing. There was more than a little blood and guts involved, but mostly he’d concentrated on his travels, on what he’d seen and done. The truth behind the Scourge of Europe, and more specifically, the Slayer of Slayers.

 

He’d thought about letting Buffy see it, but didn’t think he would at this point. It wasn’t as though he felt guilt for his past; there was no regret for being a vampire. It was what he was, and he reveled in the freedom it had given him, the immortality and the strength. But there was a small part of him that did not want Buffy to know some of the things he had done. He wanted her to know what he was now, not what he had been. Giles might be a better candidate. He would know how to put the information to good use, and Spike trusted him. Not that he liked him, but he recognized in the other man a sort of practical honor.

 

Spike shoved the notebook under his pillow. He only had a few hours until Dawn got home and he was supposed to give her a hand with her homework. Time for a bit to eat and a nap. He’d worry about locking the book up later.

 

He was in the kitchen, heating up his blood when he heard the front door swing open. Frowning, he swung himself out to the hallway. “Hello? Buffy, is that you?” There was no answer, and the door was closed. He shook his head, puzzled. Buffy had an afternoon class, and she usually didn’t come home between. Dawn was usually the first to show up after school was out. He sniffed the air, but smelled only the normal scents of the occupants, breakfast, and blood.

 

Going back into the kitchen, he pulled out the mug and started drinking, the hunger in his belly easing. Having learned from experience, he rinsed it out and left it in the sink, going back downstairs for his nap.

 

Once he reached the basement however, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he knew there was someone down there with him. “I know you’re down here,” he called, trying to quell the tendrils of fear. If there was something down there with him, there wasn’t much he could do about it really.

 

Silence. “Come on,” he taunted. “Not afraid of me are you? Show yourself.” He heard a whisper of sound and felt something brush by him. “A ghost, huh? Go haunt the living. There’s nothing down here.”

 

“Nothing at all?” Buffy’s voice whispered into his ear. And then her hand was brushing down his face, his arm. And he could smell her right there beside him.

 

“Buffy?”

 

“Whatsamatter, Spike? Having a hard time seeing me?” She laughed as astonishment registered on his features. “Well, you’re not the only one. I wanted to change my appearance, but I’m not sure this was the way I wanted to go.”

 

He reached out a hand to touch her, and found her solid, right in front of him. He just couldn’t see her. “Slayer? What happened?”

 

She laughed again, sounding positively giddy. “Well, I went to get a haircut, and the next thing I knew—poof! Invisible girl. It’s kind of fun, really.” Her hand found its way to his chest, and he could feel her finger making patterns on the fabric. “Want to play a game?”

 

Spike watched as the buttons on his shirt seemed to unbutton themselves one by one, and he could suddenly feel her warm hands on his bare chest. “Let’s see exactly where the feeling stops, huh?” He swallowed hard, feeling her hands move lower and lower, until he couldn’t feel the pressure anymore. But from there, he could imagine what she was doing, even if he couldn’t see it, and his imagination was running wild.

 

“Buffy? What are you doing?” he asked.

 

“Having a little fun,” she replied. “Aren’t you?”

 

Oh, he was. He couldn’t believe that she was doing this. And her hands came back up to the part of his body that could feel, and he was getting really turned on, and he had no idea what he was going to do, because his hands were presently occupied keeping him upright—

 

And then he saw it. The notebook he had shoved completely under his pillow was now lying right on top of it. He pulled back from the Slayer’s questing hands abruptly. “What are you doing, Buffy?” he asked coldly.

 

“Spike,” she protested, her tone surprised. “What’s wrong?”

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone sharp. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. “What’s wrong is that you invaded my privacy and now you’re playing games with me.”

 

“Spike, it’s not a big deal. I just wanted to see what you were so busy with. I didn’t read any of it.” Her tone was both defensive and light, as though she were a guilty child trying to play down her offense.

 

But his anger was heightened, not lessened. “You went where you weren’t wanted, Slayer,” he replied. “That’s my business, not yours to play about with whenever you choose.” He felt betrayed by her actions, angered by the casualness with which she toyed with him. He felt as though she were flirting with danger; coming onto him not because she wanted _him_ but because she wanted to take a little walk on the wild side. And while he had told the truth, that he had no regret over his sacrifice, and no desire to be repaid, he hated feeling used. Used to protect her sister, used to protect the world, used when she wanted a little excitement.

 

“Get out, Buffy,” he growled. And she must have sensed that he meant it, because he heard her footsteps on the stairs and then overhead. Angrily, he pulled his shirt off and then sat on his cot to remove the braces. Pulling out the metal box, he locked the notebook inside, something he apparently should have done earlier. And then, sighing, he laid down, closing his eyes, tired to the bone.

 

~~~~~

 

Xander came bursting through the front door, calling for Buffy. “Slayer’s not here.” Spike’s voice came from the kitchen, and he followed the sound to its source.

 

“Have you seen her?” Xander paused. “Well, actually you wouldn’t have seen her—”

 

“She’s been here,” Dawn said quietly. She and Spike were sitting side by side at the table, working on an assignment for school. Tara sat across from them, a thick textbook in front of her and a highlighter in hand.

 

Xander looked around at the faces. All of them wore serious expressions, and no one was looking particularly satisfied with the situation. “What happened?”

 

Spike looked even grimmer, but he maintained his silence, which was unusual enough that Xander noticed. Dawn was the one to answer his question. “Buffy was giving me the wiggins. She was just—acting crazy. It’s not like she was even trying to get visible again.”

 

“Well, she needs to get visible,” Xander replied. “Whatever did this to her is making things mushy.”

 

“Mushy?” Tara asked, looking puzzled.

 

“The traffic cone that got hit started, I don’t know, dissolving.” He looked worried. “We need to find Buffy and get this figured out.”

 

“Good luck finding something you can’t see,” Spike muttered. Xander was surprised at his tone. Normally Spike would be the first out the door, but he didn’t seem anxious to go anywhere.

 

“Oookay,” he said. “Anybody else notice some bitterness?”

 

Dawn threw him a glare. “Buffy was really freaking Spike out, Xander.”

 

“Right. Still, we have to find her.” Xander was extremely curious as to how Buffy had managed to piss Spike off so badly, but he wasn’t talking, and it didn’t look like he was going to.

 

Just then the phone rang, and Spike reached over to pick it up. “Yeah…She’s not here…Dunno where she is, what do you want?” His eyes widened and narrowed. “I’ll get her the message. Just say it.” There was a long pause, and then he barked, “She’ll be there.”

 

Spike hung up the phone and looked over at Xander. “Whoever they are, they’ve got Red. Wanted me to find Buffy and let her know where they are.”

 

Xander shook his head. “We don’t have time for that. I don’t—”

 

The phone rang again, and Spike reached over to pick it up. “Yeah…Buffy?” He listened for a second, and then apparently cut her off. “We don’t have time for that. Some wankers just called, said they have Red. Figure it’s the ones what turned you invisible.” He listened for a second and then listed the location for her. He hung up the phone and said calmly, “She’s handling it.”

 

Xander frowned. “What if she needs help?”

 

“She’s an invisible Slayer, Harris. She doesn’t need help.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy entered the house as quietly as possible, feeling more than a little ashamed of herself. Her giddy-fest from earlier in the day was going to have consequences. Making up with Dawn wouldn’t be too hard. It would require some groveling and probably the loan of her new shirt, but her sister was usually fairly forgiving. At least, as long as you begged appropriately and let her yell a little.

 

No, it was Spike she was concerned about. While the Slayer part of her brain impatiently reminded her that he was a vampire, and therefore it didn’t matter that she’d gotten into his private notebook, the Buffy part reminded her forcefully that it hadn’t been nice. Besides which, every time she tried to convince herself that he was an evil vampire without feelings, she remembered the way his face had looked when he’d realized he’d been paralyzed. His eyes the night he’d stopped her from burning to death. His quiet assurance when he told her he would stay with her rather than get the chip out. He had given up everything, or at least a chance at everything for her, and she hadn’t paid him back very well at all.

 

He was out on the back porch, of course, smoke wreathing his head. “Hey.”

 

“Welcome back to the world of the seen, Slayer,” he said, his deep voice resonating in the darkness.

 

She tried for the light approach. “I was just wondering how long you were going to stay mad, because I figured I could just come back when you were done.” The chilly silence that followed told her that might have been the wrong approach. Buffy bit her lip. “Can I sit down?”

 

He said nothing, but he did push himself up off the step and over so that there was more room for her to sit beside him. She took his invitation. “I’m sorry, Spike. I don’t even know what got into me.”

 

“I do.” His flat statement sent off sparks of anger in her. She hated it when he thought he knew better.

 

“Then why don’t you tell me,” she challenged, gritting her teeth.

 

He looked over at her, his face half in shadow, making him look sinister. “You were feeling like nothing mattered. All the rules and regulations they throw at you, everything they say you have to do, all that’s gone. Because who’s gonna know you broke some rule if no one can see you? So you had a little fun doing all those things you want to do when you can’t get away with it, and you tried it when you knew you bloody well could.”

 

Some of Buffy’s anger drained away, leaving a faint aftertaste of irritation. How could he know her so well when she didn’t even know? “How’d you work that one out, Spike?”

 

He caught her agitation and smiled sourly. “You ever wonder what it’s like to be a vampire, luv? Aside from the whole blood lust thing when you first rise, you suddenly feel this power that’s bigger than you could’ve ever dreamed of. But more than that, you figure out you’re free. Free of every demand anybody ever put on you. You can do what you want, go where you want, and say sod all to the rest of the world.”

 

Buffy’s eyes opened wide in shock even as her face flushed with anger. “You’re saying I was acting like a vampire? How sick is that?”

 

“Didn’t say _that_ ,” he replied, equally irritated. “I’m just saying you were feeling pretty free with yourself and stopped thinking about what you _should_ do for a minute. Started thinking on terms of what you wanted. That’s all a vampire ever does, pet.”

 

“I’m not your pet,” she snapped. “Look, Spike, I’m sorry about looking in your notebook, but don’t try giving me some crap story about how I’m just like you. We’re nothing alike. We have nothing in common. You’re a soulless vampire and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

 

She regretted the words almost as soon as they came out of her mouth. Spike had done a lot for her recently, and he’d proven himself to be more than what he was. But they were out, and couldn’t be unsaid, and by the tightening of his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes, she knew she’d just managed to throw up a wall between them that might never come down. “Well, then, I guess this soulless vampire will just say good-night.”

 

Buffy watched as he swung himself into the house, a constant reminder that he had given everything for her. Sometimes she hated him for not being able to hate him anymore. And other times she wished she didn’t feel so guilty for liking him as much as she did. There were days that she hated her life.


	12. Money Woes

Buffy was avoiding him, and Spike was letting her. He was well aware that she was uncomfortable in the extreme with his accusations. He was also aware that at least part of her discomfort stemmed from the fact that what he said was at least partially true. Spike knew he’d been harsher than he’d intended, but her invasion of his privacy had cut him more deeply than even he expected.

           

Dawn noticed, of course, sensitive as she was to those around her. Of course, most of her sensitivity had to do with the fact that the entire world revolved around her, but she still noticed. Which was why when she came to visit him in the basement, bringing a fresh, new notebook, she felt as though she should probably fill him in on a few details. “Buffy got a job.”

           

He glanced up, feigning disinterest. “Oh, yeah? Where and doing what?”

           

“At the Double Meat Palace, which answers both questions at once, I guess,” she replied. “We visited her this afternoon.” She eyed him speculatively. “Don’t tell me you seriously didn’t know she was working.”

           

He shrugged. “I figured she got a different job at the school or something.” A light came on in Spike’s brain, and he frowned at Dawn as she sat next to him on his cot. “Wait a minute. She’s flipping burgers? Have you seen the people that work there? They look like zombies.”

           

Dawn leaned back against the wall comfortably. “Buffy said the school wasn’t giving her enough money or enough hours, and she’s taking fewer classes this semester, so she has more time to work. I think she’s worried about the money thing.”

           

Spike sighed. He could get her the money, but he wasn’t sure she would take it. Xander had finally taken him to the Bronze, and he’d managed to prove that he still had what it took. In fact, the last night alone he’d netted more than $70, which he’d promptly given to Tara for groceries. Another couple weeks, and he’d have enough to get into that poker game again, which would give Buffy enough to live on for a while. Assuming she actually took it. The way things stood between the two of them, he wasn’t sure. “Wish I had a magic wand to wave to make all the bad things go away, Bit,” he replied.

           

“Me too.” She looked him in the eye. “I did like you said and took all the stuff back to the Magic Box.” She gave him a half-grin. “Unstealing it was way more fun. Anya kept getting this look on her face like, ‘How could I misplace something that was worth money?’ It was great.”

           

Spike smirked at her perfect imitation of the ex-demon. “Well, just as long as she doesn’t ever catch on, you might keep all your entrails intact. Thanks for the notebook.”

           

She hesitated. “Look, Spike, I know Buffy totally invaded your privacy. And if she’d taken a look in my diary I wouldn’t speak to her for the rest of my life, but what are you writing?”

           

“Things, Bit, that’s all. Stuff that’s happened to me, things I’ve done. It’s not precisely G-rated, so you can just forget about looking.”

           

“I so know that,” she answered with a roll of the eyes. “Besides, I heard your story about the girl in the coal bin. I know you were evil.”

           

“Am evil,” he corrected, more out of force of habit than anything else.

           

“Whatever. Anyway, maybe you could let her off the hook, because she’s been really mopey lately,” Dawn said.

           

He sighed and looked off into the distance. “Your sister’s been going through a bit of a rough patch lately, pet. Best just to let things be sometimes.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

But Spike never followed anyone’s advice, even his own. That evening found him standing just outside the doors of the Double Meat Palace. He was on his way to the Bronze to hustle a few more unsuspecting gits at the pool table, but he thought he’d just stop in, say hello, maybe tell her to run for the hills while she still had a chance. It was a thought anyway.

           

She was talking to one of her co-workers when he came in, an older woman who looked as though she was stoned. What scared Spike was that he knew she wasn’t on anything. It was as he had suspected. Grease killed brain cells. “So, what’s in the Double Meat nuggets?” he asked, shooting for a bit of humor as she walked over to him.

           

She eyed him for a moment and then sighed. “God only knows, and that’s pretty much the truth. What are you doing here, Spike?”

           

He shrugged. “Was on my way to shoot some pool and I thought I’d drop in. Bit told me you got a job here.”

           

“Yeah, well, I kind of need the cash.” Buffy unbent just a little. “Look, Spike, I’ve already taken my break. You should probably go. I don’t get off for a while yet.”

           

He leaned forward on his crutches, looking her straight in the eye. “You’ll drive yourself crazy, luv. You’re not happy here.”

           

“Story of my life,” she replied, then looked away. “Don’t make this any harder. Please.”

           

His voice took on an intensity she rarely heard from him. “You’re better than this, Buffy. This isn’t where you belong.”

           

“I told you I need the money.”

           

“I can get money,” he replied, dropping his voice. “Enough to tide you over till you find something better if you don’t want to take it from me.” For a minute, he thought she might take him up on his offer, but she shook her head.

           

“I need to go help Gary with the fries.”

           

He wanted to shake her out of her stubbornness, to throw her over his shoulder and march out of there, but there was nothing he could do if she didn’t want his help. “This place will do stuff to you, Buffy,” he warned, shooting a surreptitious look at the other woman. And as she walked away without replying, he called out after her, “This place will kill you!”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike was more than a little concerned about Buffy. He had seen the look on her face the other night, knew how unhappy she was at her new job. His greatest fear was that she’d suddenly feel like everything was too much, that she’d give up. Not that she’d run out and kill herself, but that she’d end up getting herself killed. When she got herself a double shift the very next day, his concern grew even more.

           

“It sucks,” Dawn agreed. She was sitting next to Spike in the kitchen, trying to do her math homework. “It’s just not fair. I mean, Janice’s sister is a lawyer, but Buffy is probably just stuck doing minimum wage stuff. I could be anything I want to be.”

           

Spike looked over at her. “You’re sister’s not stuck, Bit. I promise you that. She’s still in school, isn’t she?”

           

“Yeah, it’s just, being the Slayer is different. I mean, she’s always going to be the Slayer, and that means she doesn’t—”

           

Dawn broke off, but Spike thought he knew what she meant. Being the Slayer was everything for Buffy, but it also meant that her options got limited pretty quick. And with the death of her mother and a younger sister to look after, her options got slimmer by the day. Which was why Spike was worried. If she felt too trapped, she might not fight quite as hard. “Big sis can take care of herself, Li’l Bit,” he reassured her. “And we’ll see what we can do to make sure the rest gets taken care of.” He reached over and gave her hair a friendly pull. “You just concentrate on your schoolwork, then you can be a big fancy doctor or lawyer or whatnot and take care of the both of us.”

           

“Like you need to be taken care of,” Dawn scoffed. “You’re the professional poker player.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike left Dawn in Tara’s capable hands and went to play pool as soon as the sun went down. He had every intention of making that poker game, and he needed a little more cash to get in. Almost in spite of himself he swung past Buffy’s work on his way to the Bronze. It was actually a bit out of his way, but he was worried, and he wanted to reassure himself, maybe do something for her, maybe convince her to leave, though he didn’t think that last was likely.

           

He should still be pissed at her for certain. She still hadn’t apologized for reading his notebook, but he was too worried to be angry. She could walk all over him, and he’d forgive her every time, he loved her that much. He needed her that much.

           

Spike could see that she noticed him swinging by, and he made a quick decision to wait for her out in the alley, hoping she might decide to come outside for her break. Sure enough, she stepped outside the door with a bag of trash and tossed it into the dumpster before glancing over at him. “Spike—” she began.

           

He could hear both weariness and tension in her tone, see it in the set of her shoulders. She would not allow him to bear her burdens for her, so he would do what he could, give her what he could in the short span of a fifteen minute break. “Come here, Slayer,” he said, a gentle command. And to his surprise she came to him, where he leaned against the wall, and he pulled her around so that her back was to him, and sought to soothe the tension with strong fingers.

           

Buffy moaned slightly and leaned into the pressure, letting him take out the knots brought on by idiot co-workers and a double shift and the sense that life was closing in on her. She was trapped by duty, by friends, by her sister. They were bonds that she had willingly accepted and even now would not give up, but every day the burden seemed to grow a little heavier, and she wondered if this was the way things would always be.

           

Minutes passed, and Buffy reluctantly pulled away. “I should get back.”

           

“Yeah, suppose so,” he replied, his voice a husky whisper. He wanted to keep her there, to take her home with him, but he let go, watching as she turned to go back inside.

           

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, surprising him. He tilted his head quizzically, not understanding. “For the other day. With your journal.”

           

He shook his head. “Forget it, Buffy.”

           

“No, you were right, about me not thinking. I’m sorry I invaded your privacy. And I’m sorry for what I said later.” She stood facing him now, her chin tilted defiantly.

           

He seemed wary of her apology, not understanding it or where it was coming from. And Buffy wondered if she had been so unkind to him in the past that he would be afraid of an act of contrition. Spike had always seemed to have an easier time accepting blows and harsh words. “It’s fine, luv. Nothing that wasn’t true.”

           

She hesitated, frightened that taking it further, that saying more would change their relationship irrevocably, send it careening down a path she had no intention of taking. At the same time, she wasn’t sure it would be so bad. “True or not, you’re a lot more than that, Spike.”

           

Buffy left it at that, heading back into the grease-pit that was her job. But Spike was left with a bright flame glowing within called hope.

 

~~~~~ 

 

When he came home late, his pockets full, he found Buffy and Willow on the couch with Tara and Dawn as their rapt audience. “So I cut its head off and we threw it into the meat grinder.”

           

Tara and Dawn winced visibly, and Buffy made a face as well. It would be a long time before any of them would willingly eat at the Double Meat Palace. “But it was Wig Lady the entire time,” Buffy finished. “And the meat is actually vegetables, which is weird to think about.”

           

“You’re not going back there are you, Buffy?” Dawn asked.

           

Buffy shrugged. “I have to go back tomorrow to take the uniform in, but no. I have a feeling they aren’t going to give me my job back after making a huge scene like that.”

           

“Though the info about the meat being veggies is probably worth a lot,” Willow suggested. “If you wanted, you could probably blackmail them or something.” She quickly looked down at her hands. “Not that blackmail is at all a good thing, ‘cause it’s not.”

           

“Spot of blackmail can be right useful, Red,” Spike finally said from the doorway, his face carefully void of expression. If Buffy wanted to go back to that hell-hole, he wasn’t going to be the one to stop her; she’d made that clear. “Tara, got a bit of something for you if you’ve got a minute.”

           

The other three stared curiously as Tara followed him out to the kitchen and he handed her a wad of cash. “Grocery money,” he explained in a soft whisper. “Should get you by for another week or two.”

           

The witch quickly counted the bills and raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure this is just pool money, Spike? This is quite a bit.”

           

To her surprise, he looked away guiltily. “Tip money,” he mumbled. She waited patiently for him to go on, and he finally explained. “Bar tender at the Bronze was sick. Owner needed a sub, asked me to do it. Told him I would one time. They tipped well.”

           

Tara wanted to laugh. Here he was acting guilty about earning money legitimately, whereas a high-stakes poker game was a thing of pride. “There’s nothing wrong with bar-tending, Spike.”

           

He moved his shoulders uncomfortably. “Don’t want it to get out. Besides, one time deal, you know. Don’t tell anyone.”

           

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she said gently, touching him on the arm. He looked at her gratefully then. He was so strange to her; so dark and violent and at the same time so much like a boy. He could be so sweet, it made her heart ache, and at other times he showed a lack of empathy so deep it was frightening. But he was changing, she knew. Every day she saw in his aura a difference, a lightening. As though this trial was altering and changing him into something new. She caught a glimpse of it then, as he leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Glinda,” he said softly. “You’re alright.” And then he retreated into the basement.

 

~~~~~ 

 

 

Buffy made her way stealthily into the basement. She had no idea of why it was important to see him, to talk to him, but it somehow was. In the end, it had been impossible for her to ask to have her job back. If she had been more desperate, she would have. But her student loans had finally come through for the semester, which covered her tuition and most of the housing expenses. It had been grocery money she’d been most concerned about, but Tara had told her that morning that they had enough to last the month out at least, courtesy of Spike. And apparently he’d been doing that for the last couple weeks, passing off his winnings to Tara.

           

She stared at him, lying sprawled on his back on the small cot. They were Spartan surroundings, really, but he seemed content enough. Seeing him, she was struck again by the choice he had made, to stay with her. She wasn’t worth it.

           

“Buffy?” he said sleepily, his eyes blinking open. “That you, luv?”

           

“Yeah.” For some reason she felt compelled to go and sit on the side of his bed. “Sorry I woke you.”

           

He rubbed his face, and she could see the curls in his hair, mussed as it was. “It’s okay. Did you get your job back, then?”

           

“No.” She hesitated. “I thought I’d take your advice and look for something better. I waitressed before, maybe I could find something like that.” There was a long pause. “Tara told me about the grocery money. You bought me some time, you know, to look.”

           

“You finally decide I’m a font of wisdom?” he asked with a smirk.

           

She rolled her eyes at him. “No, actually I got scared.” He quirked his eyebrow, and she explained. “Lorraine, the new manager, would probably have given my job back, but I couldn’t ask. She had on this 5 Year badge, and I could just see myself getting stuck there forever. And with the double shifts and the smelling of grease, it just didn’t seem to go well with the whole college student image I’m trying to pull off.”

           

“You’ll make it, Buffy,” he said quietly. “Maybe you don’t see it now, but you’ll make it. And you’ll find a better place to work than that hell-hole.”

           

“Hope so,” she replied with a small smile. “I should really let you get back to sleep though.”

           

Spike frowned at her, his blue eyes concerned. “You look tired, pet.”

           

She tried, and failed, to smile. “A little. I’ll be fine.”

           

“Here,” he grunted, moving so that he was on his side, his back to the wall. “Have a bit of a lie down, Slayer. The others’ll be gone for the rest of the day. It’s dark and quiet down here.”

           

Buffy knew she probably shouldn’t, but it was too tempting. There was something about being in Spike’s arms that made her feel as though somehow everything would be fine. He made her feel protected, knowing that he would do anything for her. She lay beside him, and felt herself relax as he pulled her close, one strong arm wrapped around her middle. “Sleep,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve got your back.” And they both slipped under together, breathing in time.


	13. Life Spring

Spike got back in the wee hours of the morning to find Buffy lying on the couch, waiting for him. “Slayer? What are you still doing up?”

           

Buffy shrugged, throwing off the blanket that had been covering her. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d wait up for you. You’re in later than usual.”

           

“Poker game,” he said by way of explanation, nonchalantly pulling an envelope out of his jacket pocket and tossing it to her.

           

“Spike, I don’t think—”

           

“That’s not all of it, Buffy,” he said quietly. “So don’t worry about that. If I can’t fight demons for you, then I want to do something else to help.”

           

She stared at the envelope. It was too much, and she shouldn’t take it. But at the same time, he really did want to help, and she really did need the money. “Thank you.”

           

He glanced away, not meeting her eyes. “Yeah well, anytime, luv. You should get to bed, though. You’ve got work tomorrow and school.”

           

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It never ceased to amaze her that Spike knew everyone’s schedules better than they did. “Would you do me a favor?”

           

He paused on his way to the basement stairs. “If I can. What do you need, Buffy?”

           

“Stay with me tonight.” The silence that followed her request was deafening.

           

He turned to face her, slowly. “What do you want from me?” There was no anger in his tone, just a kind of curiosity. He wasn’t sure what she wanted from him, because it certainly wasn’t going to be sex, and he really couldn’t see what else there might be.

           

Her features illustrated her warring emotions. Having admitted to herself that Spike made her feel as though everything would be alright was completely different than actually saying it out loud. “I need to feel—” She broke off, not telling him what it was he made her feel, but it seemed to be enough for him. His face softened, and he gave her a little smile.

           

“All right, then.”

 

She followed him up the stairs, letting him set his own slow pace, and shut the door to her room behind both of them. He seemed awkward, as though he wasn’t exactly sure what to do, but he sat on the edge of her bed and slowly removed the braces, setting them gently down on the floor. He was about to start on his boots, when Buffy was there in front of him. “Let me.”

 

She pulled his boots off one at a time, and then pulled his shirt off over his head. “You know this isn’t going anywhere, don’t you?” he asked quietly as she ran callused fingers over his face. “I can’t give you anything, Buffy.”

 

“You give me everything, Spike. Isn’t that enough?”

 

He stared at her, shocked that she had spoken the words aloud. He gave her all of himself, and he didn’t think she’d ever noticed. “It’s never been enough before,” he replied.

 

She kissed him deeply, roughly, needing this, needing him. She was using him, she knew, to feel safe, to make herself believe that tomorrow would be better. And yet there was more in her heart for him than simple pity. Indeed, nothing between them had ever been simple, not even when they were trying to kill one another. Even if this was all they ever had, it was enough for the moment.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy woke slowly late the next morning, turning the alarm clock off quickly before it could wake Spike. She slipped out from under his arm, smiling as he muttered in his sleep, unwilling to let her go. Always so unwilling to let her go. She headed out towards the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind her, only to face Tara in the hallway. “Hey.”

 

“Hey, Buffy.” She hesitated. “Spike’s with you?”

 

“Yeah. Do you—could we talk? Later maybe?”

 

Tara nodded. “I don’t have class till this afternoon. We could talk after you get out of the shower.”

 

Buffy finished cleaning up and then went downstairs to find the other woman waiting for her in the kitchen. “Coffee?”

 

“Please.” Buffy gave a sigh of contentment as she took a sip. “Why does it have to be like this?” she asked, not quite rhetorically.

 

“Like what?” Tara replied, her face open and sympathetic.

 

Buffy looked down into her mug, as though the surface might give her the answers to all her questions. “I should hate him. He’s everything I’ve been taught to detest. Hell, he should be dead by now. One of us should have killed the other at this point. And he’s the only one who makes me feel safe.”

 

Tara said nothing, waiting for Buffy to go on. “Some days it feels like everything’s too much. Taking care of Dawn, and being the Slayer, and working, and school. One thing after another every day, day in and day out. And the only time I feel like it’s bearable, and I might just make it is when I’m with him. Why is it him, Tara? Why is it that Spike makes me feel safe when no one else can?”

 

Tara was quiet for a long time. “He loves you, Buffy. I think it’s the people that love us the most that make us feel the safest.”

 

“It’s not supposed to work that way,” she protested. “It’s not supposed to be the soulless vampire that saves the world, and loves me.”

 

Tara smiled. “Nothing is ever perfect, Buffy. Sometimes you just have to take what you can get.”

 

“But what if it’s a trick?” Buffy moaned, putting her head down on the counter. “What if I take it, and it turns out it was just a trick and I wasn’t supposed to?”

 

“Then I guess you’ll have to figure out if it’s a risk worth taking,” Tara said gently but firmly.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy came home from work exhausted. She’d been at home less and less the last couple weeks, what with school and starting her new waitressing job. She was just grateful that both Tara and Spike were more than capable of taking care of Dawn. But she thought she would finally have the opportunity to hang and spend some quality time with her sister.

 

“You’re going to Janice’s to spend the night?” Buffy asked incredulously. “And I’m supposed to fall for that one because of the surprise lobotomy?”

 

“It’s okay, Buf,” Xander said. Xander, Anya, and Willow had come over to work on dancing for the wedding reception. “Spike told me before he left that he’d checked it out with Janice’s mom. She’s picking Dawn up.”

 

“Please, Buffy?” Dawn said. “I didn’t know you were going to be home, and Tara and Spike both were going to be out tonight, so they thought it would be okay.”

 

“Sure, why not?” Buffy asked glumly. Then, as she thought about an evening alone, she decided to take Xander up on his offer of a night of Bronzing and the promised “frothy nectar.”

 

The Bronze didn’t seem to have the same appeal as it usually did. Xander, Anya and Willow seemed bent on having a good time. It was easy enough for them. They didn’t have the same kinds of responsibilities that she had. They didn’t have to worry about performing a duty that would most likely kill them, sooner or later. She wandered upstairs to the balcony overlooking the dance floor, staring down, watching as her friends danced.

 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Spike’s deep voice echoed out of the shadows behind her. “What’s the matter, Buffy? You look a little down.”

 

She was silent, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment. “You’re thinking you’re the only one with problems,” he said, uncannily reading her mind. “You look at them and you think they have it so easy.” He swung himself over to stand just behind her. “Look at them, Buffy. So full of their own problems that they don’t see you’re hanging on by a bare thread. They’d never know how close you are to just giving up.”

 

His voice tickled her ear. “Harris scared stupid he’s rushing into this thing, thinking he might have made a mistake asking her to marry him. The demon-girl thinking he might leave her at the altar or get tired of her or something. And she’ll be left just like all those women she got vengeance for. Red, who’s struggling with the magic every day, feeling like this huge piece of her is missing and not having much hope that it’s gonna get better.”

 

Spike put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Shall I go on? You think you’ve got problems? The only problem you and your Scoobies got is that you’re too blind to see how much you’re all hurting. Can’t see past your own noses, any of you. Meanwhile, the rest of us on the sidelines just watch and wait and hope it all blows over, because we depend on you lot to get your heads out of your arses and save the bloody world. Go figure.”

 

He turned to leave, but Buffy’s bitter words stopped him. “And what about you, Spike? You haven’t said anything about how sucky your life is.”

 

“What are you talking about, luv?” he asked softly. “I made my choices and I live with them. End of story.”

 

She watched him as he left, then watched from above as he moved to an empty pool table, only to be harassed by a couple college kids. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she knew it wasn’t very nice by the looks on their faces and the set of the vampire’s jaw. But he responded easily, and soon they were playing a game that Spike would win. For her. Damn him.

 

He was so alive, she realized. More than anyone she’d ever known, he glowed with life and seemed to pass it on to any who would drink from him. He would give it all to her, for her. He would breathe it into Dawn, into Tara, to make their lives a little more bearable. To allow them to know someone loved them. And she had to wonder how someone who was supposedly dead could be so alive, so brilliant and shiny with it. It made her love him. And it made her hate him.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy came into the house and shut the door behind her, feeling as though the police were already on her heels. She had killed a girl tonight, and instead of doing something about it she had run. She, the Slayer, had freaked out. Well, to be completely honest, she’d frozen, and then she’d freaked, but still.

 

“Buffy?” His voice came from the shadows, from the kitchen, and he looked at her with nothing but concern in his eyes. “Is everything alright?”

 

“No,” she whispered. She didn’t know why she was telling him, except she didn’t know who else to tell. “There was a girl in the woods. And demons. I don’t—time went all funny, and I killed her, Spike. I killed the girl.”

 

He was by her side in an instant, faster than anyone had any right to be on crutches. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes,” she replied. “I mean, I know she was dead, but I thought—I thought she was a demon and I hit her. Spike, I didn’t mean to.”

 

“Shh,” he soothed, running one hand over her braided hair. “It was an accident. You wouldn’t hurt anyone like that. Did anybody see you?”

 

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I panicked.”

 

“Right, then.” He put a hand to her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “Listen to me, Slayer. You never left the house tonight, hear me? There’s nothing to connect you to the body, nothing at all. They’ll find her, and they’ll scratch their heads and that will be the end of it.”

 

“But I killed her,” she protested.

 

“And you didn’t mean it,” he said furiously. “It was an accident, Buffy. There’s nothing you can do about it now.” His voice softened. “Go upstairs, crawl in your nice warm bed, and go to sleep. Everything will be fine.”

 

She wanted to believe him, she really did. But after an alarming nightmare where the dead girl and Spike kept changing places, she knew she needed to tell someone, tell the police, do the right thing. Of course, she would do the right thing. She was the Slayer, after all.

 

She had wanted to tell Dawn, but had chickened out at the last minute. Spike and Tara would take care of her, she knew. They would tell her what she needed to know. She’d leave a note for Spike. But Spike hadn’t gone to bed. What she hadn’t figured on was Spike’s dogged persistence or the fact that he seemed to know her so well. “Where are you going, Buffy?”

  
He stood, facing her in the living room as she came down the stairs, apparently waiting for her to try something just like she was doing right at that moment. “I need to tell someone. I’m going to the police.”

 

“And what are you going to tell them, luv?” he demanded. “That you were out for a walk when three demons attacked you and you accidentally killed the girl by mistake?”

 

“Let me go, Spike,” she said, anger and fear and horrible guilt washing over her in great waves.

 

“No,” he replied. “I love you, Buffy. I won’t let you do this. You’re throwing your life away for nothing. There’s nothing to tie you to the girl, if no one saw you. Don’t do this.”

 

“I have to,” she spat back. “How can you understand? You’re a vampire, vampires kill people. I’m the Slayer. I’m supposed to save them, and I killed her! I killed her!” Her agonized words broke his heart, and he reached for her, only to have her back away from him.

 

“Buffy, luv, please don’t do this. It won’t do anyone any good.”

 

“I have to.” She turned her back on him, went to walk out the door, and he grabbed her arm.

 

“I can’t let you,” he replied. “I won’t let you.” She pulled her arm out of his grasp and kept walking, but he just grabbed onto her again, tighter this time. “No, Buffy.”

 

Angry, half-blinded by tears, she pulled back her fist and hit him, sending him crashing to the floor, his crutches scattered. She’d knocked him a good one; the red mark under his eye would shape up into a nice shiner. But it was his sprawled form that stopped her in her tracks. He looked up at her, half-dazed from the blow. “That’s right, luv,” he whispered. “Put it all on me.”

 

“No,” she muttered. “No, I can’t.” She stared at him, looking up when she heard her name.

 

“Buffy?” Dawn and Tara stood on the stairs, and the four of them froze, a tableau of grief and confusion and anger. In that moment, Buffy suddenly realized that she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go through with it. Not tonight, anyway. Tomorrow, in the morning, she might have to do something (what she didn’t know), but for the moment she couldn’t.

 

“Dawn,” she said quietly. “Go get some ice, please. Tara, help me with him.” She couldn’t look him in the eye as she helped the witch collect his crutches and get him standing again. But she helped him over to the couch, and told him in no uncertain terms to lie down, placing the ice pack Dawn brought gently on his face.

 

Then, with much hesitation she told her sister and Tara what had happened earlier. Dawn was both devastated and angry that Buffy would have left her, which the Slayer could understand completely. But Tara was thoughtful.

 

“You said time went funny for you?” she asked.

 

Buffy nodded. “I don’t know what happened. It almost felt as though I were speeding up and then slowing down. I couldn’t figure out the sequence of things at all.”

 

“Are you sure you killed her then?” she asked gently.

 

Buffy froze. All she could think about was spinning around and knocking the girl down the hill, but she wasn’t even sure about that, about when it had happened. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

 

“Did you know her?” Spike asked from under his ice pack. “Any chance of that? Because no self-respecting girl is gonna be out that time of night in that area of town.”

 

There was a long moment of silence as Buffy tried to remember. “There was something familiar about her, but I—I can’t be sure. I mean, it was so fast, and—”

 

“Enough.” Spike pulled the ice away from his face and sat up slowly. “So there was something funny going on, which means you don’t know anything for sure.” His face was stern and set, something she didn’t think she’d ever seen on him before. It made him look older somehow. “Seems to me we wait. Papers’ll have something about it soon enough. Or you can get Red to hack into the police files for you, if that’s what you need. In any case, no point in turning yourself in for a crime you’re not even sure you committed.”

 

The Slayer hesitated, and then admitted, “You’re right. I was just—”

 

“In shock,” he said gently. “You were in shock, and you were scared. Nothing to be ashamed of, pet.” Spike looked at the other two. “You lot should get to bed too. It’ll be fine.” He shared a look with Tara, who took the hint and started to herd Dawn up the stairs.

 

When they were gone, Buffy turned to him. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” he said shortly. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

 

She shook her head. “No, Spike. Don’t make light of this. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

 

Seeing how serious she was about it sobered him. “It’s alright, Buffy. No harm done.”

 

“You’re going to have a black eye.”

 

“It’ll mend.” He reached up to brush her hair back from her face. “You should try to sleep.”

 

She shook her head, took his hand. “I had this dream—I know it’s stupid, and I know you probably don’t want to, but will you stay with me tonight?”

 

“If it’ll help you sleep,” he replied. And then he suddenly pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She stiffened and froze, but then relaxed against him, shivering. He sighed. “I can’t carry you upstairs, pet,” he murmured. “You’re going to have to walk.”

 

“Forget upstairs,” she mumbled against his shirt. “Just hold me here, Spike. Now.”

 

~~~~~

 

He was still sleeping the next morning when she rose to join Dawn and Tara in the kitchen. Tara held the paper out to her apologetically. “It looks like they found her body,” she said.

 

Buffy read the short article. Dead girls weren’t as big of news in Sunnydale as they probably should be. She scanned it quickly and then frowned as she read the name. “Katrina Silvers?”

 

“Do you know her, Buffy?” Dawn asked from over her cereal bowl. She hadn’t completely forgiven her sister for almost leaving the night before, or for hitting Spike as she had, but she was beginning to soften. Her sister hadn’t left, in the end, and that counted for something.

 

The Slayer shook her head. “Not exactly, but I know who she is.”

 

“Who, luv?” Spike asked, swinging himself into the kitchen, looking rather rumpled.

 

“The girl from last night,” she explained. “She was Warren’s girlfriend. You know, the guy that made the girlfriend ‘bot.”

 

Spike had the grace to look ashamed of himself at the reminder of Warren and his robots. “Why would he need a ‘bot if he had a girlfriend already?” he asked, puzzled.

 

Buffy shrugged. “He made her before he met this girl. Though I don’t think she stayed around for long after she found out about it.” Snarling suddenly, she slammed the newspaper down on the counter. “That bastard. I know he had something to do with it. And I would bet money he and his nerd friends had something to do with me finding her.”

 

“What are you going to do?” Spike asked.

 

She rubbed her hand over her face. “First I’m going to get cleaned up, and then we’ll go to the Magic Box. I need to find out what kind of demons those were, how he got me all turned around. And then, when I get my hands on him, I’m going to kick his ass.” She turned a considering eye on Spike. “Meanwhile, you need to get something to eat and get some sleep. You look like you need both.”

 

He gave her a wry look, touching his black eye gently. “I look that bad, eh, luv?”

 

Buffy marveled at the fact that she’d knocked him across the room and he still could look at her like that. “You’ve looked better,” she admitted quietly. Forgetting that Dawn and Tara were still in the room, she gently touched his face, the unbruised portion. “Thanks, for last night. I probably would have done something fairly stupid.”

 

He ducked his head, not quite meeting her eyes. “You would have figured it out, Slayer. You always do.”

 

“Still,” she replied, moving forward to kiss him on the lips, much as she had done after he’d tangled with Glory. “You’re a pretty decent guy, Spike.”

 

He watched her as she left the room, ignoring Tara and Dawn’s knowing looks. He probably should have reminded her that he was evil, but somehow he couldn’t find it in his unbeating heart. At this point, he’d settle for being decent.


	14. Life of the Party

Spike came out of the basement just as the front door closed behind Buffy’s retreating form. “Hey, Niblet. Where’s your sister going?”

           

“Out,” Dawn replied shortly. “She had to go kill some demon.” She looked over at him, her entire countenance radiating disappointment. “We were supposed to have dinner together.”

           

Spike’s face softened. He hated to see his Bit sad for any reason. “Well, come on then. I’ll fix dinner for the both of us.”

           

The look she gave him was dubious at best. “That’s okay, I think I’ll pass.”

           

“What, you don’t think I can cook?” he asked, acting highly offended. She hesitated, not wanting to hurt his feelings, and he went on. “Been watching the cooking channel for six months now, pet. Some of it should have rubbed off.” Not waiting for her reply, he set off for the kitchen, with Dawn trailing reluctantly behind.

           

She sat on the counter, watching him rummage in the fridge. “Where’s Glinda?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled.

           

“She had a paper to work on, so she was going to spend time in the library,” Dawn replied. “Buffy thought it would give us a chance to hang out, but then this thing came up and she had to take off.”

           

“Slaying’s important,” he said, finally deciding to make an omelet and beginning to pull the makings out.

           

“I know that,” she replied. “But I’ve barely seen her recently. It’s like she doesn’t even want to spend time with me.”

           

He looked at her sharply. “You know that’s not true.”

           

“Could have fooled me,” Dawn mumbled. Spike chose to pretend he didn’t hear that in favor of beginning his omelet. He worked in silence, save for the occasional question asking the girl what she did and didn’t like. It didn’t take long before it was done, and he slid it on a plate in front of her.

           

“Go on,” he said. “You watched me make it, so it’s not like you don’t know what’s in it.”

           

He started heating up his own dinner in the microwave, waiting for her comments. “It’s good,” she said.

           

“Well, you don’t have to sound so surprised,” he snarked, trying to hide his pleasure. She gave him a little smile that told him she knew exactly what he was doing, and dug in. Spike gulped down his blood and started cleaning up. Buffy might get on his case for a dirty kitchen, but it was Tara that he was truly afraid of. She was the one who could turn him into an undead frog after all, or slip something into his blood.

           

Dawn helped him finish, marveling at the ease with which he moved around on his crutches. He really could do almost anything. Except for fight, of course, which she supposed bothered him more often than he let on.

           

“Have you gotten anything for the Slayer’s birthday yet?” he asked, handing her the last clean dish.

           

She shrugged. “No, but I don’t have a lot of money,” she confessed. “If I were still—you know—I could just pick something up.”

           

“But you’re not, so you won’t,” he said sternly, to which she rolled her eyes.

           

“Well, yeah. But that kind of limits me in a big way.”

           

He looked at her for a long time. “Tell you what, Bit. I haven’t got anything for your sis yet either. So I’ll provide the cash if you’ll provide the brains. How’s that?”

           

“I can’t take your money,” she protested.

           

“It’s not taking my money,” he replied easily. “Knowing my luck, I’ll pick out something she hates. So we’ll go in together.”

           

Dawn smiled slowly. Not only was she going to be able to get her sister a great gift now, but she also got Spike to herself for the evening. Knowing the vampire, she could probably even talk him into some ice cream.

           

When they got home a few hours later, Dawn felt she had the perfect gift for Buffy in a very pretty sheer blouse. Spike had looked rather dubious over her choice, but had let her have her way. “What would you have gotten her?” she asked him, curious and slightly miffed that he didn’t think more highly of her choice.

           

“Something sharp and shiny,” he had replied with an evil grin.

           

As they entered the front door, she stole a look at the vampire. He’d been around a lot recently she realized, and had spent more time with her than Buffy had. Spike looked up to meet her eyes. “You should get to bed, Bit,” he said. “It’s past all good kiddies’ bedtime.”

           

“Good night, Spike,” she replied, and then paused, impulsively hugging him. “I love you.”

           

Spike was too shocked to say much of anything, managing a weak, “Same here.” He stared at her retreating figure as she climbed the stairs. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that. He closed his eyes reflectively. She shouldn’t have been able to wrap him around her little finger, but she had. He sighed. He was done for.

 

~~~~~ 

 

“I’m going to kill Xander,” Buffy mumbled, leaning against the kitchen wall. Spike, who had just emerged from the basement, looked over at her with one raised eyebrow.

           

“And just what’s Harris’ offense?” he asked with some amusement.

           

She rolled her eyes. “He and Anya invited a friend.”

           

“Last I heard that wasn’t a crime,” he replied.

           

“A single, male friend,” she clarified.

           

Spike wasn’t sure whether to laugh or get mad. The annoyed look on his Slayer’s face told him that she wasn’t at all happy about being set up. On the other hand, there was every possibility that she could get interested in this wanker, and then where would he be? “You want me to scare him off?” he asked lightly, an evil look in his eyes.

           

“No,” she replied. And then she gave him a reluctant smile. “But it’s tempting. I’m just not into doing a relationship right now. I don’t have the time or the energy.”

           

Spike wanted to ask her what he was, since she’d been hanging onto him pretty tightly recently. But it was her birthday, and he didn’t want to piss her off. As things stood, she was definitely softening towards him, which could only be a good thing as far as he was concerned. “Well, if you need rescuing, you know where I’ll be.”

           

He stayed mostly on the fringes, a position both he and the Scoobies recognized as his. Tara came and stood by him as they watched Buffy begin to open presents. “Richard’s kind of cute.” She looked over at him with a sly grin. “Don’t you think? I’m not an expert.”

           

He threw her a sour look and decided to get back a little of his own. “And Red’s looking especially bitable this evening.”

           

She blushed slightly, and they both shared a look. “Are you going to make a move on her?” Tara asked.

           

“Not unless she asks for it,” he replied, knowing very well that his ability to “make a move” was severely limited. “You?”

           

“It’s not time yet,” Tara said, uncomfortable with his line of questioning. They fell silent, perfect understanding between them.

           

They watched as she opened Willow’s gift, a portable massage thing, and then Dawn eagerly pressed her package into her hands. “Mine next,” she insisted.

           

Buffy opened the box and smiled at the blouse. “It’s beautiful, Dawn. But you must have spent too much.”

           

Dawn shook her head. “Spike and I went in together.”

           

Buffy looked up at the vampire, who was standing across the room, the last vestiges of his black eye still fading. “Thanks.” She looked at her sister. “To both of you. It’s really pretty.”

           

And then the next moment the blouse was forgotten as Xander wheeled in a truly handsome weapons chest. Spike could certainly appreciate the craftsmanship, but he saw Dawn’s disappointment as Buffy set her gift aside.

           

The party was still going strong a few hours later. Spike was mildly surprised that no one had left yet, but the guests seemed to be having a good time. He, Xander, and Tara were playing a game of poker, while Buffy and the others, including Richard, were playing a game of Monopoly. “You could probably go join them,” Tara murmured. “I doubt Buffy would mind.”

           

“Don’t think so,” he said, with as much indifference as he could muster. “Think I’ll avoid letting the demon-girl clean my clock.”

           

Xander looked from one to the other of them, trying to discern the vibes he was sensing. “I thought you liked playing poker, Spike,” he said.

           

“I do,” he said mildly, shooting Tara a look that plainly suggested she keep her opinions to herself. “Which is what we should be doing.”

 

           

By the next morning, the oddity of the never-ending party was beginning to impose itself on Spike. On the other hand, Buffy was pretty much ignoring Richard in favor of playing gin with him. When Richard came in to tell Xander that they needed to get to work, he had no problem giving the git a hard time. “You should definitely go,” he said cheerfully. “Wouldn’t want to be late for work now. ‘Course, you shouldn’t skip breakfast, growing boy like you.”

           

Richard looked slightly puzzled, and Buffy gave him a mock glare, lips twitching. “Speaking of breakfast, I haven’t had mine yet.” A wicked grin pulled up the corners of his lips.

           

“Spike.” It was one word, a warning he chose not to heed.

           

“I’m usually a picky eater, but I’m hungry enough today just to eat whatever’s left lying about.” He smirked, and he heard Buffy give a little huffy breath, somewhere between a grunt and a giggle.

           

“That’s absolutely enough,” she said, standing up and hauling him to his feet. “If you’re really that hungry, let’s get you fed.”

           

She followed him into the hall, making sure he was moving. “Oh, come on, Slayer,” Spike purred. “I was just having a bit of fun with the new boy-toy.”

           

“He’s not my new boy-toy,” she said. “And we do not joke about eating people in this house. I mean it.” But there was a glint in her eyes that might have been humor, and he moved just a little closer, invading her space.

           

“He didn’t even get the joke, luv.” He grinned. “You can’t tell me it wasn’t funny.”

           

“It wasn’t funny,” she said, but he got a reluctant smile. “You really should go get your breakfast, Spike.”

           

“Nice to know you care,” he said, his voice a whisper of sound so that no one would hear him.

           

She hesitated, and then reached out to put a hand on his own, where it gripped the crutch. “I always care.”

           

“Buffy?” He frowned, realizing something odd, in spite of the tenderness of the moment. It wasn’t that he wanted to leave—the sunny day effectively prevented that—but no one else was leaving either, even though he knew they all had places to be. “Why isn’t anyone leaving?”

           

She returned the frown, seemingly frozen in place. “I’m leaving,” she insisted. “I’ve got class. And work.” When nothing happened, she protested, “I am leaving.”

           

“Sure you are,” he said, sarcasm lacing his words. “Looks like we’re going to be having a meeting.”

           

The meeting itself was fruitless. About the only information that was disseminated was that they all had other places to be, except, perhaps, for Spike. But even when they were all supposed to jump out the door together (again, Spike wasn’t including himself in that group) nothing happened and no one moved. Dawn’s huffy outburst and retreat to her room set off alarm bells in everyone’s heads though, and Buffy swiftly followed her sister. The rest of them might have gone as well, but Spike nixed that idea. “The Bit’s upset enough already without you lot coming down on her. Give Buffy and me a minute to straighten things out, then we’ll see.”

           

Amazingly enough, they listened to him. It appeared they were actually coming to trust him after all this time, and he made his own slow way up the stairs after the Slayer, hearing raised voices as he neared the youngest Summers’ room. “I didn’t have anything to do with it!” Dawn exclaimed angrily. “Figure it out yourselves. I’m done being talked to like a kid.”

           

“You’re right, Niblet.” Spike came up behind Buffy in the doorway. “You’re not a kid, and if you say you didn’t have anything to do with it, fine.” He put his hand on Buffy’s arm and squeezed, hoping she’d follow his lead. Apparently, she was beginning to trust him too, because she simply nodded.

           

“Spike’s right, Dawnie,” Buffy said softly. “If you say you don’t know anything about what’s keeping us here, we believe you.” She frowned slightly. “But your outburst downstairs just made it seem like you didn’t want anyone to leave in the first place.”

           

“Yeah, well, it takes something like this to get anybody to spend time with me in the first place.” Dawn’s face was sullen.

           

“We want to spend time with you, Dawn,” Buffy said, her voice edged with exasperation. “But we have other places we have to be. Work, school. You have school too, in fact.”

           

“All more important,” Dawn muttered.

           

Buffy was about to retort, but Spike stayed her again. He had a feeling that a lot of her anger was centered on Buffy and her frequent absences at this point, but she was being childish, and there was no talking to her while she was in this state. “Right then. Let us know if you’ve got anything of importance to add, Bit,” he said briskly. “Until then, we’ll just leave you to yourself.”

           

Buffy followed him out of her room and into the hallway. “What the heck was that about?” she demanded. “She’s being a complete child.”

           

The vampire shook his head. “She’s a teen, luv. And she’s been feeling a bit left out lately. I imagine she was just enjoying everybody here and not dashing off like, and then you all have to go and she takes it hard. Give her some time to cool off. She’ll be fine.”

           

Buffy stared at him. “When did you get so good with her?” she asked.

           

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the question. “Spent a lot of time with her these last months, is all. Nothing to it really.”

           

They went downstairs to join the others. Anya, Xander and the rest had decided that Tara would try a releasing spell. Spike thought it was lucky that they had the only practicing witch living at the Summers’, since Willow wouldn’t have had any spell ingredients around. Of course, with their luck, the spell didn’t release them, it released the monster that had somehow been imprisoned inside its own sword. The thing tossed him across the room and managed to give Richard a pretty good slash across the stomach before Buffy arrived to take it down.

           

Though, in this case “down” meant it disappeared into the floor, and Spike was certain that they hadn’t seen the last of it.

 

~~~~~ 

 

“You ever thought of _not_ celebratin’ a birthday?” Spike asked wryly hours later, after the sun had gone down and they were still stuck inside the house. “Just for a change.”

           

Buffy shot him a disgruntled look and didn’t reply, looking out the window. “I’m going to check upstairs,” she said. “Stay down here and keep an eye on everything, will you?” she asked, shooting a significant look at Dawn.

           

He nodded, watching her go, then taking a seat next to Dawn on the couch. “You okay, Niblet?”

           

“I’m fine,” she said. A noise alarmed her. “What was that? Spike? It sounds like it’s in the walls.”

           

He took his crutches and quickly got to his feet again. “Dawn, get the crossbow for me. Best be prepared.”

           

A few minutes passed, as Spike and Dawn stood ready. Suddenly, his sharp ears caught the sounds of a struggle and Xander’s voice. He swung himself toward the noise, crossbow hung around his neck. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. Spike didn’t have much choice besides the bow in his condition, though he wasn’t at all sure the bolt would do anything to it. He fired anyway, relieved when the thing loosened its grip on the carpenter. He was not so relieved when it decided to come after him. Just then Buffy showed up and proceeded to do her best to kick its ass. Not surprisingly, it disappeared back into the woodwork.

           

Buffy stopped to check on both he and Xander, who was busy comforting Anya. Dawn was still being her sullen self and quickly followed Buffy up the stairs. Spike was trying to decide whether to follow them or not when Anya decided to confront Willow. He was just about to step in when Tara beat him to it, telling the ex-demon in no uncertain terms that Willow was not to be trifled with. Spike took the opportunity to grasp Xander by the arm. “Take care of your girl, Harris,” he said softly. “She’s starting to freak.”

           

Xander looked like he was going to argue for a minute, and then nodded shortly, following his fiancée as she headed upstairs. Spike turned to look at Tara, where she still stood next to her ex-girlfriend. “Remind me not to get on your bad side, Glinda,” he said with a half-smile. And then he looked over at Willow. “Good on you for sticking to your guns, luv.”

           

Willow looked at him, startled and grateful. “Thanks, Spike.”

           

After that, things got hectic again. Dawn came rushing down the stairs, Xander, Anya, and Buffy hot on her heels. Anya had been going through her room and throwing out accusations. All Spike could think was that it was a good thing Dawn had removed all evidence of her sticky fingers. Buffy had protested that it wasn’t Dawn’s fault, she’d been tricked into making some sort of wish. Anya had gone screaming for Halfrek, who happened to be someone Spike would have been just as happy never to have seen again.

           

Thence followed the usual mayhem and demon fighting until the “justice demon” had finally lifted the curse (having been hoist on her own petard) and everyone finally started leaving. Spike was just happy that he could finally go out to the back porch and have a very well deserved smoke. Which was where Buffy found him a few hours later.

           

“You all right?” she asked.

           

“Fine. You?”

           

“I’m good.” There was a long pause as she settled down next to him. “Dawn’s in bed. We had a long talk. I think things’ll be better now.”

           

“Good. That’s good. She’s missed you.”

           

She was silent, finally looking over at him. “What was that all about tonight? Anya’s friend recognizing you?”

           

He shook his head. He didn’t really want to explain. That memory was still painful, even now after more than a century. Instead, he reached over next to him and grabbed the thin, brightly wrapped package. “This is for you,” he explained. “The real present, I mean. The shirt was Dawn’s idea.”

           

“And you were the one who paid for it and took her to get it,” Buffy replied with a smile. “Dawn told me. She also told me what she probably would have done if you hadn’t gone with her, and what Anya probably would have found if you hadn’t said something a while ago.”

           

He moved his shoulders, embarrassed by her praise, subtle as it was. “Promised I’d look out for her, didn’t I?”

           

“Yeah, you did.” She took the package from his outstretched hand, carefully peeling off the paper. “Oh.” It wasn’t anything that she’d expected. At all. Especially after what she’d done.

           

He swallowed. “You don’t have to read it,” he said quickly. “Don’t expect you to. I just—I wanted to leave something behind, something of myself. There’s stuff in there that you won’t like, but it’s all truth.” He paused, trying to read her expression, but found it impossible. “If you want to read the first bit, it’ll explain how that bint knew me tonight. You’ll get the others as I finish them. I just ask that you don’t throw ‘em away, is all. Other than that, it’s up to you.”

           

Buffy was stunned into silence. It would be like her handing her diary to Spike and telling him to have fun, like trusting a piece of herself to someone else, one that she had never shown to another. He had put his heart into her hands. “I don’t know that I’ll read it, Spike,” she said, “but I promise I’ll keep it safe.”

           

“Thanks,” he said hoarsely. “I appreciate it.”

           

Buffy left him after that to go to bed, but the thin journal kept calling to her, egging on her curiosity until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Well, just the first part,” she muttered. “Then that’s it.”

           

It didn’t take two sentences to find out that Halfrek had been Cecily, or Cecily had been Halfrek, that part wasn’t clear. She read of Drusilla’s offer, of Angelus and Darla. And it didn’t take the first paragraph to realize that she was hooked. She read until the first fingers of dawn lit the sky and she had finished the last sentence. There would be more, of course, and she’d read every one that he gave her. It wasn’t so much that it explained who he had been; she’d been fairly clear on that. And she didn’t like most of what she’d read, that was true enough. He’d been a vampire, and had done everything that went along with it. But what impressed her the most was that it wasn’t who he was any longer. Maybe she hadn’t seen it so clearly before, because the change had been so gradual. It was like seeing a friend you hadn’t seen for a very long time and realizing that they’d lost weight, when those who had been there all along never noticed.

           

The Spike who slept in her basement—and sometimes in her bed—was completely different from the Spike that first rose. Suddenly she found it didn’t really matter why he had changed, only that he had. She stood and tucked the journal away deep in one of her drawers. Someday, maybe, she’d tell him that she’d read his words, and that they’d touched her, and in spite of herself, had transported her to another place and another time. She should tell him she could hardly wait for the sequel. One of these days anyway.


	15. Kindred Spirits

Buffy entered the house slowly, weariness dogging every step. Her feet hurt, her head hurt, everything seemed to ache. “Buffy?” Spike lay on the couch in the living room, the TV on and a book in hand. “You hungry, luv?”

           

She sighed. “Starving. Please tell me there’s something to eat.”

           

“Lasagna,” he replied with a small smile, levering himself up with his crutches that had been propped up next to his head. “Not homemade, but not too bad according to the Bit and Glinda. We saved you a plate.”

           

Buffy followed him back to the kitchen and gave a sigh of relief as she sat down, letting him wait on her. Nights like this it was easy to let him help her, to let him pull the plate out of the fridge and stick it in the microwave. “Where are Dawn and Tara?”

           

“The witch had a study group on campus. Said she’d be back late. Niblet went to the Bronze with Red, said she’d be back by 11.” He looked at her as he set the plate down. “She said you’d be welcome to join them when you got home.”

           

Buffy shook her head, picking up her fork listlessly. She was almost too tired to eat. “No, I need to get some laundry done. And I need to take care of the trash too.”

           

“Trash is on the curb. Glinda got the Bit to take it out before she left tonight.”

           

She smiled. “One less thing to do then, I guess. But I still have the laundry. I think it’s a stay-in night for Buffy.” She gave him a curious look. “How come you’re here?”

           

He shrugged. “Had a lucky streak the last couple nights,” he explained. “Thought I’d take the night off. Wanted to see you.” This last was said almost shyly, and Buffy found herself smiling. Hard to say no to a face like that, really.

           

“Well, if you want to watch me do laundry, you can. That’s about all that’s going on tonight though.”

           

It was perfectly okay with Spike. An hour later, they sat side by side on his cot, listening to the sounds of the washer and dryer, Buffy leaning her head against his shoulder. It was a position that was comfortable for both of them. They sat like that in silence for a while until Buffy looked over at him with a small smile. “So the first girl you fell in love with turned out to be a vengeance demon, huh?”

           

He glanced down at her, and a self-deprecating smirk graced his features. “Guess so. Didn’t know it till the other day though. You read it.”

           

She knew exactly what he was referring to. “Yeah, I did. You were right. There was a lot of stuff in there that didn’t make me happy.”

           

A pained look crossed his face. “I’ve never hidden who I am, Buffy, what I am.”

           

“I know.” She hesitated. “You’ve changed.”

           

“Suppose I have,” he agreed. “Still evil though.”

           

“That remains to be seen.”

           

Neither one of them moved from their positions. Part of Buffy kept screaming at her, “Evil vampire!” but she was learning to ignore that voice. Evil vampires didn’t help you do laundry. “You ever think about the fact that our love lives are depressingly similar?” she asked.

           

Spike looked as though he was going to argue for a minute, and then shut his mouth. “When you put it that way, luv, can’t argue with you.”

           

They shared a look and then Buffy started to giggle. “I mean, me with the vampire, and the government demon hunter, and that prick Parker. And you with a vengeance demon, and Drusilla, and Harmony. Not to mention the Slayer.”

           

He grinned. “We don’t have the best track record between us, do we?”

           

“Nope. Just a couple of losers here.” She stared at him. He was looking at her with an expression of utter adoration in his blue eyes. “Why do they always leave, Spike?”

           

“Because they’re all wankers, luv,” he replied softly. And then, gently, he kissed her. She kissed him back, hungrily, everything else falling away. With Spike there was no past, no future, only now. And now he was with her, and he wasn’t leaving, and she could forget.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Buffy was busy ringing up a check when she looked up to see the last person she’d ever expected. “Riley.”

           

“Buffy,” he said. “Look, I know this is probably a bad time, but I need you.”

           

She frowned. There were another two hours to go in her shift, and she couldn’t just leave, not and expect to keep her job. The job that she needed. “You’re right. It’s not the best time.”

           

“I need the best, Buffy. That means you.”

           

Deep in her heart she knew Riley wouldn’t have come to her unless he really did need her help. She bit her bottom lip. “Give me a minute.” She went and grabbed one of the other waitresses. “Natalie, I need a huge favor.”

           

Natalie looked at her and then over at Riley in his commando gear. “What’s wrong, Buffy?”

           

“I’ve got a family emergency. If you’ll cover my tables for the rest of my shift, I’ll owe you big.”

           

The other girl hesitated, then asked, “I get your tips?”

           

Buffy smiled thinly. She needed those tips. Riley was going to cost her big time. “Yeah. In fact, I just rang up the ticket for the corner booth. Tips are all yours.” She clocked out and grabbed her coat. “All right, Riley. What’s the deal?”

           

She listened as he told her about their problem, and she understood that it was big, but she wasn’t all that happy to see him. She finally felt like her life was on track. She had a decent job, her classes at school were going well, she and Dawn were getting along better. She and Spike were—something. What she didn’t need were added complications from a former boyfriend.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike wasn’t sure he wanted to be here for this. It would have been fine if the great Captain Cardboard had showed up while he was making out with the Slayer, or even when she was sleeping all cuddled up next to him as she had last night. He could have gloated then, showed the great git that he had what Finn had told him he’d never get. As it was, he was going to be meeting the other man while he was at a severe disadvantage and even more incapable of defending himself than he had been previously.

           

But Buffy had insisted he be there, telling him in no uncertain terms to call the rest of the gang and have them meet her at the house. She seemed to think he might have something to contribute. She’d surprised him recently with how she spoke to him, how she touched him. He hadn’t been sure where the change was coming from until she told him she’d read his journal. He’d caught her looking at him speculatively, as though he was a puzzle she was having trouble solving.

           

Now, however, he waited in the shadows in the kitchen, watching as Buffy entered with Riley and his new bride close behind her. Xander, Willow, and Tara greeted them warmly, though Dawn showed more than a hint of coldness. His Bit didn’t like it when people left. If he had thought to escape unnoticed, however, he was soon disabused of that notion. Riley’s commando eyes easily picked him out of the shadows. “Spike?”

           

“Caught me, did you?” Spike said, all of his old snark firmly in place. He moved forward with studied casualness. As though he belonged there, as though Riley hadn’t stuck a plastic stake through his chest the last time they’d seen one another.

           

Riley looked over at Buffy in surprise. “What’s he doing here?” he demanded.

           

“Spike lives here,” Buffy replied quietly, her face showing no discomfort with her words. She had nothing to be ashamed of, after all. “He helped against Glory, and he saved Dawn’s life.” Buffy looked back at him, and he was careful to keep his face blank. The Slayer was beginning to come around, and he didn’t want to bollocks things up.

           

Riley seemed to feel the same way, because he let it go, though his wife, a tall brunette, gave him a curious stare. Spike listened with a sinking feeling as they described their dilemma with the Suvolte demons and their eggs. He’d been tempted, of course, when the stranger had approached him about using his crypt as a storage facility. The money had been good, and he certainly wasn’t using it. On the other hand, Buffy often checked up on his place, just to make sure everything was still intact for when he could go back. (Neither of them was willing to admit he probably would never go back at this point.) If he wasn’t around to keep an eye on her and the merchandise, there was no telling what could happen. Especially since he had extraordinarily bad luck.

           

So, while he had refused use of his crypt, he had provided information on a little-used section of sewer not too far away for a smaller fee. Now, of course, he needed to tell Buffy about his little deal, since he didn’t want her getting hurt or running around unnecessarily, especially if she was going to be doing so with the Soldier Boy. Once they’d decided to split up, Spike eased his way over to Buffy’s side. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Slayer?”

           

He could tell she was about to refuse, but the look on his face and something in his eyes made it impossible. “Yeah.” She turned to Mrs. Finn. “Give me a sec, okay?”

           

They moved a few feet away to prevent anyone from overhearing them. “Listen,” he said shortly. “Go to my crypt, the lower level. Take the entrance for the sewers and turn right. ‘Bout a hundred yards up you’ll take the left turn. It’s a dead end. You’ll find what you’re looking for there.”

           

She stared at him. He thought he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes, but she only nodded. “Thank you. We’ll talk when I get back.”

           

He watched her go, and he wondered if had ruined things without even meaning to. And yet, how could she be disappointed? She knew what he was, who he was. It shouldn’t surprise her that he might know where the eggs were being kept. It shouldn’t surprise her at all.

 

~~~~~ 

 

With Spike’s directions, she and Sam easily found the demon eggs and managed to destroy them before they started hatching. She hated to think of what would have happened if the vampire hadn’t known where to find them. Whoever stored them in the sewers didn’t know enough to keep them frozen, and they hadn’t been far from hatching. That would have been a rather nasty mess to clean up.

           

From there, they went to see Riley and Sam off near the Magic Box. Spike wasn’t there, of course, but she hadn’t expected him to be. “Buffy,” Riley said, pulling her aside. “It was good to see you again.”

           

She managed a genuine smile. “It was good to see you too. Sam seems really great.”

           

“She is.” He hesitated, his open face pained. “Buffy, I don’t know what’s between you and Spike, but—”

           

“You’re right,” she replied. “You don’t know.” She looked off into the distance. Riley represented a might-have-been for her. The dream of being normal, of having what every girl dreams of. They had proven that normal wasn’t in the Slayer’s bag of tricks. Normal guys ended up hurt or dead in her line of work, and she couldn’t allow that. She had loved Riley too much. Even not-so-normal guys could get hurt. “Look, Riley, whatever Spike might be, he saved Dawn. He was the only one who promised to protect her, no matter what, and he paid the price.”

           

Riley nodded slowly. He had known how Spike had felt about Buffy. It didn’t mean he liked Spike, or liked the fact that he was living at Buffy’s house. But he had proven his devotion to the Slayer, and that counted for something. “For what it’s worth, Buffy, you’re still the first woman I’ve ever loved, and the strongest person I’ve ever known. Whatever you decide, I’m sure you have your reasons.”

           

“Thanks,” she replied, touched. “You know, I’m sorry about the way things ended.”

           

“Me too,” Riley said quietly, understanding. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

           

“Same here.” They stared at one another for a long moment, then Buffy stuck out her hand formally. “Good luck in—”

           

He smiled, taking her hand. “Nepal. I’ll send you a postcard.”

           

“Good luck in Nepal, Agent Finn. Take care of your wife.” She squeezed him tightly as he pulled her into a hug.

           

“Good bye, Buffy.” And as she watched him say his farewells to the others, she knew that it was probably the last time she would see him. And while she didn’t begrudge him his happiness, she did wish she could have grabbed just a little bit of the normality he’d seemed to carve out for himself. She couldn’t help but wish for a little bit of that.

 

~~~~~ 

 

He was in his usual spot on the back porch when she came outside. “Did you see Soldier Boy off then?”

           

“Yes.” There was a certain stiffness in her tone, and he stifled a sigh. It was no less than he had expected. “You knew where the eggs were.”

           

“Bloke asked if he could use my crypt to store them. Told him no, but gave him directions to a secure place in the sewers. You found them.” He didn’t turn to look at her, couldn’t bear to see the disappointment he knew would be in her eyes.

           

“Why didn’t you let him use the crypt?”

           

“Knew you went there, and I didn’t know if there’d be a risk. Didn’t want you hurt, y’know?” He did turn to look at her then. “I didn’t know what they were, Buffy. If I had, I’d’ve gone straight to you about them. I don’t want more trouble for you, luv.”

           

She looked at him, and her disapproval melted under his sincere gaze. This was Spike they were talking about. He wasn’t an international arms dealer, and he didn’t intentionally make trouble for her. At least, not anymore. “I know.”

           

He watched as she took her place next to him, studied her face, and discovered both weariness and a touch of sadness. “He was a prat, you know.” Earnestness defined his voice and expression. “Mark my words, I’ve seen that type before. They’ll be at each other’s throats before the year is out. Won’t last.”

           

He got a smile out of her then. “It’s okay, Spike. It worked out for the best.”

           

“Well, I can’t argue with that. I wasn’t sorry to see him go, that’s for sure, especially after he staked me. Stupid git.”

           

Buffy looked over at him in surprise. “He staked you?”

           

“Plastic one.”

           

“Oh.” She frowned. “I don’t think I’m gonna ask.”

           

“Can I ask you a question?” His tone was tentative, unusual for him. He was typically all cocky boldness.

           

“Shoot.”

           

“Why didn’t you just tell me to stay down in the basement?” There was nothing but insecurity in his blue eyes, and it shocked her. “You could have, y’know. Captain Cardboard wouldn’t have had to know about me staying with you.”      

           

She hesitated, unsure of what to tell him. Of how much to tell him. “Whatever has happened in the past, Spike, you’ve earned your place here. And it’s not in the basement. Wherever we go from here, we’re friends. William.” Gingerly, almost shyly, she reached over and took his hand. In some ways, it was more intimate than their make-out session from the previous night.

           

For Spike’s part, he couldn’t help but stare at her, at their joined hands. It was the first time she had promised him a part of herself, a place by her side. She had promised to get him back on his feet, but that had been gratitude, nothing more. This was something else entirely. It was almost love. Maybe not what he felt for her, but it was something. It was a place to start. Unable to speak, he felt the lump in his throat and the tears burning his eyes. Stupid, really. “Bugger me,” he muttered. With his free hand, he reached over and brushed her hair away from her face. “Friends.” And they sat on the porch until the sun’s first rays lit the sky, hand in hand.


	16. Altar Call

“Spike, hurry up, we’re going to be late,” Buffy called down the basement steps. She was all ready to go, as were Dawn and Tara, but Spike seemed to be taking his own sweet time. “Spike—”

           

He appeared at the basement door, a sour expression on his face. “Don’t see why I had to wear this get-up.”

           

Buffy gave him a long-suffering look. “Because you promised to help Dawn with the gift and guest receiving, and Anya said you had to. So shut up and hold still.”

           

As much as he was whining, he did look good, Buffy thought. Anya had insisted on his wearing a tie if he was going to be part of the wedding party, if only a very peripheral part. Refusing to wear a tux, which he called a monkey suit, he’d managed to come up with a decent pair of black pants (not jeans), a dark blue shirt, and a black tie. Buffy’s nimble fingers started knotting the tie where it hung around his neck.

           

She was busy trying to remember if the next step was over or under when she caught him staring at her with rapt attention. “What?”

           

“You look good, Buffy,” he said softly. “Happy, y’know? Makes you glow.”

           

It was a compliment she hadn’t been expecting, and she brushed it off with a slightly glib, “That’s because the dress is radioactive.”

           

He chuckled, a whisper of sound. “Yeah, still. I like seeing you happy, luv.”

           

“Thanks,” she replied, straightening his tie. “All done.” Buffy gave him a measuring look. “You look good today too. I don’t know I’d go so far as to say you’re glowing, but you look good.”

           

He ducked his head shyly, like a boy who’d just received his first compliment. “I know we need to go, but I wanted to ask you a favor,” he began. “I know you’ll probably say no, and I don’t expect you to say yes or anything. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, I mean—”

           

“Spike, spit it out,” Buffy commanded gently.

           

“Would you save me a dance at the reception?” he asked. “Know it’s not going to be dancing, more like sitting one out with me. You don’t even have to say anything to anybody.”

           

Buffy stared at him with a kind of aching tenderness. It was easy to like him when he was this Spike, this boy in vampire’s clothing who wanted nothing more than a dance with the girl he loved. It was much harder to like him in his other guises when he was hard and daring and brash. But she found she liked the warrior as much as she liked the boy. The warrior was just a lot more annoying. “I’ll save you two.”

           

In that instant, Spike swore his heart beat once. Impulsively, he said, “I wish—” And then he stopped himself because that was a dirty word around the Summers’ house anymore. And because what he wished he could never have, and could never offer her. Best not to say anything.

           

Buffy must have seen something in his eyes though, because she simply said, “I know.” And then they left to watch what they had both once hoped to have.

 

~~~~~ 

 

“Hymen’s greetings,” the tall demon said sonorously.

           

“Hy-what?” Dawn asked.

           

“God of Matrimony,” Spike supplied from the side. “Didn’t know you’d be here today, D’Hoffryn.”

           

“And miss the wedding of one of my best girls?” D’Hoffryn smiled genteelly. “We’re here to mingle, of course, William. Or do you prefer Spike?”

           

The vampire smiled slightly. “Spike’s fine.” He watched as the demon handed the box to Dawn, who gasped slightly as a tentacle poked out of one of the holes. “Enjoy yourselves,” he added, looking over at Halfrek menacingly. In response, the vengeance demon edged past him, forgoing her attempts at conversation with Dawn. “Do me a favor, Bit,” Spike murmured as soon as they were out of earshot. “Find a nice, dark closet to shut that box up in. We don’t want it getting out.”

           

Dawn gave the wriggling box a suspicious stare. “Um, sure.”

           

“And when you’re done with that, why don’t you go say hi to that guy you were ogling.”

           

The teen gave him an anguished look. “I wasn’t ogling!”

           

“Eyeing, then,” he said with a smile. “Go mingle, Bit. Guests aren’t coming so heavy now, and I can take care of the rest of it.”

           

She gave him a grin. “Thanks. We’ll see if he’ll even talk to me while I’m wearing this dress.”

           

“He’d be a stupid git not to. You’re looking particularly beautiful today, Niblet.” He gave her a soft smile, and she beamed at him. Spike was beginning to realize how easy it was to make her smile, and how much he enjoyed doing it.

           

“Thank you, Spike. You look good too. I think Buffy definitely likes.” She gave him a cheeky grin and left to find a closet for the box, as well as the young demon.

           

Spike hung around the doorway for a while, making sure that the bulk of the guests had arrived. Once he was sure everything was under control, he headed into the hall, noticing that Xander was surrounded by people, all of them demanding his attention. He didn’t even bother to hide his smirk. If there was one thing Harris and his girl had shown him, it was that Vegas was the best option if you were going to tie the knot. The whelp had gotten himself into this neck-deep for sure, and Spike was planning on enjoying the show.

           

He watched as Harris allowed himself to be steered away from the crowd by an old man. Spike wouldn’t have thought anything of it if they hadn’t walked right past him. Normally in a group this large, he wouldn’t be able to pick out anything but the most familiar scents, and Harris was definitely there. But the old man, while he looked human, most definitely wasn’t, and they were close enough for him to tell. While there might be demons all around him, none of them looked human.

           

For a moment, he considered just letting them go; it really wasn’t any of his concern. Of course, if anything happened to Xander, and Buffy found out he could have stopped it, she’d stake him in a second. Heaving an unnecessary sigh, he followed.

           

The old wanker was holding some glowing ball in his hand, which then sent out a beam of light and sucked Xander inside. Spike had seen a number of strange things in his life, but that was right up there. “Hey!” he called out. “Drop it!”

           

The old man was surprised enough to do exactly that, and Xander suddenly appeared on the floor with a hard thump, even as the ball shattered. The demon scuttled out the door, but Spike ignored him in favor of the fallen groom. “Harris? You okay?”

           

Xander managed to sit up, putting both hands over his face as he groaned. “Oh, man.”

           

“You okay?” Spike asked more insistently, getting worried. Buffy would kill him if he managed to get Harris brain-damaged.

           

Xander stood shakily. “I don’t think so.” Spike was silent. He sounded coherent, and he was moving okay, so he couldn’t be too hurt. “I can’t do this.”

           

The vampire frowned. “Can’t do what?”

           

“I can’t marry her. I can’t marry Anya.”

           

Spike frowned. “Of course you can. You’ve just got cold feet. Take a deep breath and it’ll go away.”

           

“No, you don’t understand,” Xander insisted. “That guy was me. He showed me—if I marry her, I’ll end up hurting her.”

           

“The guy was a demon,” Spike exclaimed, exasperated. “What he showed you was a bunch of rot, and if you want to hurt the girl the best way would be to not marry her.”

           

“No,” he replied. “He was right. We can’t get married, not now.” Xander started to leave, but Spike called him back.

           

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he demanded. “You walk out now, and you’ll lose her. She’ll hate your guts, and she’ll be right.”

           

“Better that she hate me now than later when we’re married,” Xander said, not turning.

           

The ice in Spike’s voice was obvious. “I never took you for a coward, Harris.”

           

Xander laid a hand on the doorframe, leaning heavily for just an instant. “Me neither.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

“Buffy,” Spike said insistently, grabbing her arm. “Harris left.”

           

She frowned at him. “What do you mean Xander left? Where did he go?” Her frown deepened as he quickly described what had happened. “Okay, I guess we’ll have to go look for him.” Just then Willow walked up, and Buffy looked over at her in relief. “Will, go look for Xander. Apparently some demon guy went and force-fed him some sort of vision that’s given him a case of cold feet. I’m gonna go see if I can find this demon and stall the guests.”

           

“What do you want me to do, Slayer?” Spike asked, instantly at her disposal.

           

Buffy looked at his earnest face, and felt a moment of guilt for what she was about to ask him to do. But only a moment. “Tell Anya—tell her something so she won’t worry. Explain that the wedding is on hold for a little while. And keep her happy.”

           

Spike watched as Buffy and Willow hurried off in their green dresses. “Keep her happy,” he muttered. “Right, keep the jilted bride happy until she decides to kill the messenger.” He knocked briefly on the door before entering, finding Anya admiring herself in the mirror and practicing her vows while Tara posed as the appreciative audience. The witch gave him a smile of genuine welcome, and he felt a rush of affection for her. Her kindness moved him.

           

“Uh, Anya?” he said uncertainly. He still hadn’t figured out a good cover story.

           

“Yes, Spike?” she said expectantly. She seemed to shine with a sort of general good will, as though she would love the whole world on her wedding day.

           

“The, uh, the minister had to rush off unexpectedly,” he said, slightly nervous. He was trying desperately to think of a good reason for a minister to rush off.

           

“Why? Doesn’t he know his most important job is to marry us?” Anya asked.

           

“Uh, right,” Spike agreed immediately, trying to think. “Uh, he got called to, uh, perform last rites for some bloke. Dying in the hospital, you know.” Spike was amazed by his own brilliance. Granted, he had no idea if Episcopalians had last rites, but he highly doubted that Anya or Tara did either.

           

“Oh, well, that’s fine,” Anya replied, not at all happy, though thankfully her anger was directed at the supposedly-absent minister and not him. “Go off and give last rites to a dead guy that isn’t going to care anyway.”

           

“Well, shouldn’t take him too long to kick it, ducks. Then the minister’ll be back here to marry you two in no time.” Apparently, he’d succeeded in reassuring her, since she’d decided to go on practicing her vows. As she recited, Spike felt a wave of unexpected sympathy for her. He’d been hurt by love before; one could say he was the poster child for rejection. But hearing Anya pouring her heart out for the absent Xander made him wish that it was truly in his power to give her her heart’s desire. That, or Harris’ head on a plate when she found out what happened.

 

~~~~~ 

 

After that, things got crazy, as they could only on the Hellmouth. Spike’s story about the minister didn’t hold her there for nearly as long as he might have hoped, leaving he and Tara to follow in her formidable wake as she went off to find the groom. Then, of course, she had to overhear Dawn telling her new friend the real reason that the wedding had stalled. And then Anya had confronted the old man who revealed his true form, allowing Buffy to start whaling on him. In the meantime, Xander had returned, and after helping Buffy kill the demon, he turned to speak to Anya.

           

Spike could hear every word Xander was saying in this obviously private moment, and he felt her heart break from where he stood twenty feet away. Suddenly he was in a Victorian drawing room, and the woman he loved was telling him he was beneath her. And the words were repeated from the lips of the Slayer. And then _she_ was telling him that the only chance he had with her was when she was unconscious. He focused again on Anya as she walked listlessly up the aisle, completely forlorn.

           

“Tara,” he said urgently, swinging over to where she and Willow had retreated to get out of the way of the melee. “Stay with her.” The witch nodded and went after the retreating figure. He looked at Willow. “Red, someone needs to tell these folks that it’s over, and it shouldn’t be her. Figure that’s your job as best m-er woman.”

           

The red head looked at him, a new respect dawning in her eyes. “You’re right. I’ll make the announcement. Thanks, Spike.”

           

Spike watched as chaos began to break out around him again, and he couldn’t see anything to be thankful for. After all, he’d tried to stop the Whelp, and he’d failed.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Buffy descended the stairs to the basement slowly. She, Dawn, Tara, and Willow had been in complete shock for the last couple hours, not even truly appreciating the fact that they could get out of those horrid dresses. Like victims of a disaster, none of them had really wanted to be alone.

           

It really was a disaster. A complete and utter train wreck. Not one of them had seen this coming, and the surprise definitely made it worse. So after the rest of them had finally gone to bed, she went to see the one person she was certain would make it better.

           

“I’m sorry.” They were the first words out of his mouth, and they surprised her. He sat on his bed, the tie gone, barefoot, his shirt unbuttoned. His legs hung off the bed in a way she’d grown used to, but still it was odd. He should have been sprawled, restless, and instead a strange stillness seemed to have come over him in the past months.

           

“It wasn’t your fault,” she replied, coming over to sit next to him, not touching. Not yet.

           

He shook his head. “Saw him going off with that bugger, knew he was a demon. Should have gone after him quicker.”

           

“It wasn’t your fault,” Buffy repeated. “Xander left. Whatever he saw, or thought he saw, he knew what showed it to him, and he still left.” She shook her head. “Poor Anya. She just looked so crushed.”

           

“Know that look,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Know that feeling.”

           

Buffy knew exactly what he was talking about. She knew about Cecily now, knew about Drusilla. Knew about herself. She reached over and touched his arm, her thumb moving in slow circles. “Me too.”

           

They were silent for a long time after that, until Spike finally broke the silence. “You know D’Hoffryn was there today, right?”

           

She frowned, unsure as to what difference that was supposed to make for her. “Who?”

           

“Anya’s old boss,” he clarified. “She probably won’t be human for much longer, pet.”

           

Buffy frowned. “I don’t think—” She stopped abruptly, put herself in Anya’s shoes. “You’re right.” She sighed. “I guess we’ll have to deal with it when it comes up. We’ll just have to be really careful about saying the ‘w’ word around her until we’re sure she’s still human. Or not.”

           

They stared off into space, both lost in their own thoughts, their own memories. Spike finally took her hand in his own, the one that had rested on his arm. “You should get to bed, luv. You’re tired.”

           

Buffy looked into his eyes, wanting to tell him that she wanted to be with him. That there was the distinct possibility that she was coming dangerously close to liking him in a way that very much resembled loving him. Instead, she merely replied, “Yeah. We never got that dance, you know.”

           

“Well, I’ll take a rain check on that if you’re in the mood to be handing them out, Slayer,” he said with a smirk. “Maybe by the time I cash it in, it’ll be a real dance.”

           

“Maybe so,” she replied, leaning down and giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. “Good night, Spike.”

           

“Good night, luv,” he called after her retreating figure. And then he went to sleep, dreaming of the way things might have been in a perfect world.


	17. A State of Mind

Buffy came home from her shift a little happier than she had been. She’d managed to ace the test she’d had today. (She could count the number of times that had happened on one hand.) And tips had been really good. The two major bummers were that Xander still hadn’t shown up and Anya had yet to return, but other than that, things seemed to be going really well. She even had a list of places to check for the nerds that Willow had procured.

           

There were voices coming from the living room when she walked in, and from the sound of it, it seemed like a regular party. “Buffy, come see!” her sister called as she opened the door.

           

Buffy turned towards the living room, seeing her sister and Tara sitting on the couch with big grins on their faces and Spike standing across from them, leaning on his crutches. “What’s up?” she asked, curious.

           

“Don’t you notice anything different?” Dawn asked, an eyebrow raised and glancing at Spike, who was doing his best to not meet her eyes.

           

She frowned, giving him the once-over, not quite figuring out what was such a big deal. Then her eyes widened as she realized that while he was leaning on his crutches, he was no longer wearing the brace on his right leg. “Spike—” She broke off not knowing what to say.

           

“Legs won’t take much weight, and they’re still not cooperating, but the right leg’s starting to tingle. Means I’m getting some feeling back.” he said, looking over at her. “Not much improvement, but it’s something anyway.”

           

“That’s great,” she said softly, smiling at him.

           

He looked over at her, and as had happened so often in the past, everything else seemed to fade away except for the two of them. “Been a year, luv. Maybe be another before they’ll do much else for me.”

           

“Remember what I said?” she asked. “As long as it takes.”

           

He closed his eyes and looked away. “Let me go with you tonight, Slayer.”

           

She hesitated, certain that it wasn’t a good idea. And yet, she wouldn’t mind the company while checking out all the new rentals. It would certainly be better than wandering around on her own. Besides, she knew Spike missed the action of the hunt. “All right, you can come. But you stay out of trouble.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Trouble had a way of finding Spike. They were most of the way through their list and still hadn’t found anything when a very large, very ugly demon came out of nowhere. Spike yelled to get the Slayer’s attention and then concentrated on not getting in the way as she fought it. It had been too long since he’d seen her dance, graceful as a cat, her movements truly poetry in motion. Fighting was the only poetry he’d written after he’d been turned, and now even it was denied to him.

           

That was when it hit him. “Buffy, he’s a glarghk guhl kashmanik!”

           

She took a second to stare at him. “A what now?’

           

“Bloody hell,” he swore. “Watch out for the stinger in its arm!”

           

Just then, said stinger popped out of nowhere, and might have managed to stick the Slayer if she hadn’t been warned. Without thinking, she grabbed its arm, twisted, and sent it spinning away from her. Right into Spike. “Watch out,” she called, wincing, but it was too late. The vampire didn’t have nearly enough time to get away, and the stinger went deeply into his shoulder.

 

           

 _“It’s pointless you know,” he said. Spike looked over to see Angelus smirking at him. “Look at you, can’t even protect yourself anymore, reduced to begging for scraps. In fact, when you get right down to it,_ you’re _pointless.”_

 

           

“Spike! Spike! Come on, I’m not hauling your butt all the way home, you stupid vampire,” Buffy coaxed, her gentle tone at odds with her words. Spike’s scream when he’d been hurt had scared her more than she would ever want to admit.

           

“Slayer?” Spike saw Buffy standing over him and blinked. Something strange was going on for sure. He felt her breathe a sigh of relief. “Come on, I think that’s enough of the checking of houses for tonight,” she said, laying a hand on his forehead. “We should get you home.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

The small, niggling worry about Spike jiggled in the back of her brain even as she spoke with Willow the next morning. The redhead had come over with two purposes: researching the activities of the nerds and seeing Tara. Since she and Tara were sitting at the same table, sipping tea companionably, the second purpose was being fulfilled at least.

           

“How did the list turn out last night?” Willow asked cheerfully.

           

“Okay,” Buffy said. “Spike and I managed to get most of the way through it before this seriously nasty demon came out of nowhere and stuck him with a stinger of some kind.”

           

Willow frowned in genuine concern. She was actually coming to like Spike. “Is he okay?”

           

Buffy shrugged. “The sound he made when it stung him might suggest otherwise, but he swore he was fine. As far as I know, he’s still sleeping, which is probably of the good.”

           

“Did you take a look at it? Where he got stung, I mean?” Tara asked quietly. “He doesn’t always come clean when he’s been hurt.”

           

Buffy rolled her eyes. “He’s got more testosterone than half a dozen men sometimes, I swear. But yeah, I looked at it. Just looked like someone had stuck him with a really big needle.”

           

Just then there was a knock on the door, followed closely by Xander’s entrance. “Hey,” he greeted them, appearing pretty grim.

           

Buffy was torn as she listened to Xander explain himself. She understood that he’d been afraid, and that was why he’d run, but as she pointed out, Anya had been broken by his departure. Even though she wanted to be sympathetic to one of her best friends, she also wanted to knock him upside the back of the head. She’d been left enough in the past to know exactly what Anya had been feeling.

           

Which was possibly why when Spike appeared he said what had been going through her mind. Well, way back in the deepest recesses of her mind anyway. “So he returns to the scene of the crime. Come back to wallow in self-pity and recriminations? Or are you going to try throwing your sorry self at her feet? It’ll take a bit more than groveling with that one, Harris.”

           

Spike stood in the doorway to the dining room, a sneer pulling at his lips. Despite his snark and bluster, however, he didn’t look very good. “Or maybe you came back to finish her off,” he suggested, his blue eyes sparking. “Wasn’t enough to break her heart, you wanted to come back and gloat about it.”

           

“Shut up, Spike,” Xander snarled, moving suddenly and grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt, slamming him up against the doorjamb. “What’s the matter?” he asked, smiling. (And it was a smile Buffy didn’t particularly care for). “Can’t defend yourself, Willie Wannabite? Or maybe you forgot you can’t walk as well. All I need is a pencil, and you’d be—”

           

“Xander, enough.” Buffy decided to break them up before she wound up with one less friend. “Let Spike go and sit down. And you—” she looked at Spike, who was looking rather self-satisfied after getting a rise out of the younger man. “Go back downstairs and get back in bed. You look like crap.” When he looked as though he were about to protest, she pushed on his uninjured shoulder. “I’ll bring you something to eat in a few minutes.”

           

Spike looked as though he might contest the summary banishment, but either he was as tired and sick as he looked, or he had finally gained some sense, because he turned and did as she directed without another word. Buffy looked back at Xander before going into the kitchen. “Spike doesn’t get staked, Xander,” she warned quietly. “Not by you. Just ignore him.”

           

Tara followed her into the kitchen, leaving Willow and Xander to talk. “Is it just my imagination or is Spike more irritable today than he has been in the past?”

           

Buffy sighed. “I don’t know. He likes to get a rise out of Xander, but he’s been a little tamer lately. In fact, they were actually semi-getting along for a while. Maybe it’s just that he got hurt the other night when I took him out with me and he’s embarrassed. It’s hard to say.”

           

~~~~~ 

 

It wasn’t embarrassment that was bothering Spike, however. It was the visions, the people. He’d heard that the venom of a glarghk guhl kashmanik had hallucinogenic properties, but he was a bit surprised that it worked on vampires. The problem was that they didn’t feel like hallucinations; they felt real. In a way, they were real.

           

Angelus had taunted him while he was in the wheelchair, and during his hallucinations, that’s where he was again. Only this time, he’d never gotten out, was never _going_ to get out, and Buffy was nowhere around. It wasn’t physical torment, it was mental, and what was worse, it was just as true now as it was then. He whimpered slightly as he felt himself back there.

 

           

_“You see why she could never really love you, William?” Spike’s eyes met Angelus’ brown ones. It was all real. He could feel the chair underneath him, could smell the mansion, and his grandsire’s familiar odor, could see Dru as she stared dreamily at the Angelic One._

_“You could never be as good a vampire as me, you know,” he said. “There’s too much humanity left in you, too much niceness. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re too good to be a demon, and too bad to be a human.”_

_“This isn’t real,” Spike muttered, hoping to shut out the painful truth. “This isn’t real. I’m in Buffy’s basement, I’m in—” The slap across his face got his attention._

_Angelus grinned. “You’re with me now, boy-o, and we’re gonna have some fun.”_

 

           

“Hey, I brought you some blood,” Buffy said. Spike blinked once and sagged against the wall behind his cot, relieved. For a moment there, he hadn’t been sure that this place, with Buffy and Dawn and all the rest hadn’t been a fantasy, and the other was reality. This was real. He was beginning to heal, slowly but surely, and Buffy was looking at him with pained sympathy. This was real. That’s what he had to keep telling himself.

           

“Are you okay?” she asked, then smiled a little. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were on drugs.”

           

“I’m fine, pet,” he said, unwilling to tell her the truth. Maybe because it made him weaker; maybe because he was a stupid git, it was hard even for him to tell at this point.

           

She frowned. “You aren’t a very good liar,” she informed him primly. “In fact, you suck at it. Spike, what was in that gargling demon’s stinger-thing?”

           

He hesitated and then replied, not even bothering to correct her pronunciation. She was right; he’d always sucked at lying. Even becoming a vampire hadn’t improved that ability. “It’s a hallucinogen. Makes you think you’re somewhere else for a bit, I suppose.”

           

“Where?”

           

Her fingertips were tender on his arm, and he wondered at it. How was it that they had come to be so gentle with one another? Had they always been moving in this direction, or was this something new? He wanted to be gentle with her, to show her his love in tangibles, in the way he touched, and tasted. He wanted to be rough with her, to show her what it meant to walk on the wild side, to dare things she’d never imagined. He wanted things he couldn’t have. “Doesn’t matter, does it?” he said hopefully, not wanting her to press, hating to have to reveal his humiliation went so far as dreams now.

           

“I think it does,” she said, “but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” And of course now he wanted to.

           

He sighed. “I’m back in the mansion,” he said shortly. “You know, like before.”

           

That was all that needed to be said. Oddly enough, it was a bond between the two of them that they had survived the wrath of Angelus. Both of them had lost much to him; both of them had hated him. The difference being that Spike hated Angel in all his forms, and Buffy had loved him in one. But they had both wanted him gone, and they had both wanted their lovers back. And neither had gotten exactly what they’d wanted, but they’d never spoken of it before.

           

“I hated you then,” Buffy said matter-of-factly. “I mean, I really, really hated you.” And then she gave him this sly look that was all mischief and devilry. “But there was always this little tiny part of me that liked you.”

           

“You never, Slayer,” he scoffed. “You hated my bloody guts right up until—” He broke off, unsure of when it was exactly that she’d stopped hating him.

           

Buffy put her hand on his, where it rested on his tingling right leg. “I think I must have liked you a little, mostly because I never killed you.”

           

“You wish,” he replied with a smile.

           

“Do you want to know when I stopped hating you?” she asked quietly, her eyes and face now serious, without a trace of laughter. He nodded. “I think it was that night when you promised to protect Dawn. You told me you were a monster and that I treated you like a man. You said I could never love you.”

           

“It’s true, innit?” he said. “I know that, Buffy. I’m not stupid. I know what I am.” He hesitated, and then asked. “What was that kiss then, luv? The one after Glory beat me all to hell?”

           

“That was a thank you, but there was still a part of me that hated you,” she said. “But after you promised to protect Dawn, I couldn’t hate you any more.”

           

“You’re out of my league, luv,” he said tenderly. “Even if I could give you something worth hanging onto, you’d still be out of my reach. Just knowing you don’t hate me—Like I said that night, it’s worth more to me than you’ll ever know.”

           

She smiled at him. “Drink your meal, Spike, and get some rest. I’m going to see if we can’t find out a little more about this demon and how to get you better just a little bit faster, vampire healing or no.” She stopped and turned back to him on her way to the stairs. “You’re a strange vampire, you know that? Most wouldn’t want to be treated like a man.”

           

Spike gave her a self-deprecating smile that he held until he heard the door to the basement close behind her. “Don’t I know it.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

_“You know why no one’s killed you yet, William?” Angelus asked idly. Spike clenched his jaw. His grandsire was always around in this reality. Before, he’d been alone much of the time, but now the older vampire was always there. “It’s because you’re just too pathetic. Really, the Slayer should have picked you off a long time ago, but she knew you weren’t a threat.”_

_“Maybe it’s because she likes me,” Spike countered._

_Angelus snickered. “No one_ likes _you, Spike. Haven’t you figured that out yet? Dru doesn’t even like you. She just feels sorry for you. Isn’t that why she never comes to your bed anymore?” He grinned. “She comes to mine. Because you can’t give her what she needs. A pathetic loser like you can’t give any woman what she needs.”_

_“That’s not true,” he replied, but without much strength. Wasn’t it true? Hadn’t it always been true?_

           

“Isn’t it?” Angelus replied, as though reading his mind. “You’re a worthless waste of space. You can’t hunt, you can’t defend yourself, you can’t even stop me from doing this—” And he grabbed the wheelchair and tipped it over hard, sending Spike sprawling. “See you later, Wheels.”

 

           

“Are you okay?” Dawn asked Spike urgently. He had been sprawled out on the basement floor, a blank look in his eyes.

           

He blinked a few times and looked up at her. “Yeah, Bit. Just lost myself there for a minute.” He swallowed. That had been a bad one.

           

“Well, Buffy wants you to come upstairs,” Dawn said quietly. “I think she’s worried about you. I am too,” she confessed. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

           

He gave her a pained smile. “Be right as rain in no time, L’il Bit.” He followed her upstairs slowly. He really didn’t feel good at all, physically or emotionally.

           

Buffy took one look at him when he came into the kitchen and frowned. “Xander and I are going to look for this gargle demon tonight,” she informed him. “Willow figured out that it has the antidote to its own poison in its stinger.”

           

“Sounds good, luv,” he said. “Sooner I get myself sane again the better.”

           

“Yeah,” Buffy replied. “Well, I don’t want you in the basement right now. I can’t really keep an eye on you down there. I’ve put blankets over the windows in my room, so you should be safe up there.”

           

He hesitated. “Are you sure, Buffy?”

           

“Yeah, I am.” She put a hand on his arm and squeezed it reassuringly. “I’ll get you through this, Spike.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

“Explain to me again why we’re doing this,” Xander said irritably, not at all happy to be demon hunting for Spike’s benefit.

           

“Number one, I’m not letting that thing run around loose in my town,” Buffy explained, a little irritated herself, since this was about the third time she’d gone over it. “Number two, we need it to get the antidote to help Spike. End of story.”

           

“But this is Spike,” Xander said, still dissatisfied with the whole deal. He still hadn’t forgiven the vampire for his comments at the wedding-that-wasn’t or for earlier in the day.

           

“Yeah, it is. And Spike would do the exact same thing for me.”

           

“He couldn’t.”

           

“He would anyway,” Buffy said, with perfect assurance.

           

Xander felt a deep fear gnawing in his gut. “You and Spike aren’t—you know, right?”

           

“Define ‘you know,’” the Slayer said, keeping a sharp eye out for the demon. She knew exactly what Xander meant, but she wasn’t in the mood for it at the moment.

           

He frowned. Xander didn’t actually want to say it, just in case saying it made it true. “You haven’t slept with him, have you, Buffy?” Buffy stopped and glared at him. Xander took the look on her face the only way he wanted to. “Sorry, that was a stupid question.”

           

“You’re right. It was stupid,” she said. And then with something resembling one of Spike’s more evil smirks, said, “Besides, it’s really none of your business, Xander.”

           

“You have slept with him?!” he gasped horrified.

           

She sighed and rolled her eyes. There were two possible answers to that question, since she had slept with him, she just hadn’t had sex with him. “No, I just meant that who I sleep with is absolutely none of your business.” She shot him another look. “And I mean it, Xander. Spike happens to be my friend, just like you’re my friend. If you think I’d let some demon’s venom drive you insane, then by all means, let’s call this off.” He stayed silent. “That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

 

~~~~~

           

_“Your problem, William, is that you have nothing to offer her,” Angelus said with an evil smile. “Let’s face it. You’ve never been my equal in fighting, or torturing, or even—dare I say—lovemaking. She was bound to turn to a real vampire at some point.”_

_Spike stayed silent. He had learned through hard experience that Angelus was not to be interrupted when he was in one of these moods. It just meant more pain, physical and mental._

_“I’m wondering when you’re just going to give up,” the other vampire continued. “What’s stopping you from meeting the sunrise, seriously, Spike? One of these days you’re going to get left behind. And then where will you be? Still crippled, still helpless. Worthless, pointless, reduced to begging for scraps until someone with an ounce of mercy puts you out of your misery.” Angelus started laughing. “Of course, I’ve never been a merciful guy.”_

           

As he walked away, Spike realized that it was all true. Whether this was the real world or not, didn’t matter. What Angelus said held true both here and with Buffy. He was pointless. He was a waste of space. As Harris had said, he couldn’t bite, couldn’t fight, couldn’t walk. He couldn’t even make love to the woman he loved more than unlife itself. Why shouldn’t he meet the sun?

 

           

Indeed, why shouldn’t he?

           

Spike shook himself, trying to dislodge the thought, but it stuck with him stubbornly, ringing through his head with insistence. It was becoming harder and harder to distinguish one place from the other, zinging back and forth inside his own head with all the ease of a ping-pong ball. He was beginning to doubt that this place, that his spot inside Buffy’s house was a real one. What if he’d made it all up? What if he had never gotten himself out of that chair, but had lost himself in daydreams? Was it even possible?

           

It couldn’t be. And yet—and yet, what was more plausible, still being stuck in that damn chair with Angelus and Dru flitting about him, or being taken into the Slayer’s house? Never having healed, or being a vampire who no longer had the desire to eat humans? It was unreal, and unlikely, and impossible. Buffy hated him; he hated Buffy. What if it was true, and he’d made it all up because being around Dru and Angelus all the time had finally driven him around the bend and he was just now coming to his senses? What then?

           

He looked up, half-dazed, to see Xander standing in the doorway, holding a mug. “Buffy had a shift at work, and Tara and Willow had a class, but they wanted me to give you this.” The other man seemed sullen as he handed Spike the mug. “You’re supposed to drink all of it.”

           

Spike stared into the dark, viscous liquid as though it held the answers to all his questions.

           

“I don’t get you,” Xander said, from the doorway. He had to get to work and didn’t really care to stay and sit with a sick vampire. “You can’t feed, you can’t walk. You’re nothing but a burden to Buffy and the rest of us. I just don’t get why the heck you haven’t dusted yourself by now. If I were you, I would have done it a long time ago.”

           

It was an off-handed comment, meant half in admiration, half in exasperation; it wasn’t really meant to do what it did. In Spike’s weakened mental state, flashing somewhere in between reality and delusion, it seemed to click. If even the people in this place seemed to think he’d be better off dead, maybe he would be.

           

Deliberately, he poured the antidote into the trashcan and lay back on the bed to think. He couldn’t do it here, of course; someone might stop him before he could dust himself properly. The crypt wouldn’t be a good place either. He needed to go somewhere that connected the two places in his head so he could be sure to die in both. At least, he thought that would work. And he knew just the place.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Buffy woke with a nameless dread forming in the back of her mind. Spike had seemed back to his normal self when she’d gotten home that evening, even though he hadn’t said much. She’d chalked it up to a long ordeal and let it go, even though she’d asked him to stay in her room. Mostly she wanted to keep an eye on him, but it also had to do with the fact that she still had the demon chained up in the basement just in case they needed more of the antidote to cure him.

           

But now, at 3:30 in the morning, with his spot on the bed cool beside her, and Spike nowhere to be found, the small doubts somehow seemed much bigger. He hadn’t been himself, and he really hadn’t said much. So she pulled on a pair of jeans and tennis shoes, and threw on a jacket over her pajama top to go look for him.

           

Nameless dread turned into fear when she realized he wasn’t on the back porch, or anywhere else in the house. And the demon was still in the basement, pulling at its chains, however unsuccessfully. She realized, with a sinking feeling, that the four people who would have stood next to Spike to make sure every drop went down his throat hadn’t seen him drink it. And the one person who couldn’t care less had been the one entrusted with the task.

           

She looked at her watch. She had perhaps an hour, maybe an hour and a half before the sun rose. Buffy went to the crypt first, and, not finding him there, felt the first fingers of despair. What if he managed to dust himself? What then? What if she couldn’t find him in time?

           

The small, optimistic part of her brain reminded her that he might have just gone off to play cards or get drunk, but she didn’t think so. She had house-trained him well enough so that he would have left a note or something. Besides, when had Spike ever willingly left her bed after being invited in, while she was still in it? ‘Think, Buffy.’

           

And something clicked. Her feet hit the ground in smooth strides as she ran toward the old mansion. Spike had told her that’s where he was in his delusions. It just figured that it was the same spot where she’d had to convince another vampire not to meet the sunrise.

           

Somehow Buffy knew he wouldn’t be on the cliff, as Angel had been, and she was right. Spike was sitting in the courtyard, a blank look on his face that frightened her. He was normally so expressive, but under the influence of the demon venom, his face was unreadable. “Spike.”

           

He didn’t reply, and she gingerly sat down next to him on the low fountain. “The sun’s going to be up soon.”

           

“That was the plan,” he said evenly.

           

She frowned. “Spike, I know you didn’t take the antidote. This is the insanity, not you.”

           

“This isn’t real.”

           

Buffy reached out to touch his arm, but he didn’t even react, almost as though she weren’t even there. “What are you talking about, Spike?”

           

He finally looked at her. “It doesn’t make sense, Buffy. I should have killed you a long time ago. I should have drained your mum and your sis while I was at it. I should have at least _wanted_ to kill the both of them, but I never did. I protected them. This isn’t right; you shouldn’t have invited me into your house. None of this is possible.”

           

“This is Sunnydale, Spike. I don’t think impossible exists here,” she said, striving for some levity, but he didn’t even seem to hear her. From his eyes she thought he might be going back and forth pretty rapidly, since he couldn’t quite seem to focus on any one thing.

           

“Angelus was right, you know,” he said conversationally. “This is better. It’ll only hurt for a minute and then it’ll be over.”

           

“For you, maybe,” she said hotly, her voice rising with anger. “What about the rest of us?” He didn’t answer again, and this time Buffy took his chin in her hands and forced his head around to meet her eyes. She could overpower him and drag him into the mansion, she knew. She could knock him out and sit on him all day until nightfall, and then have Willow make up more of the antidote so she could pour it down his throat. But she didn’t want to force him; she wanted him to choose.

           

“You know how I know it’s the poison talking?” she demanded. “Because the Spike I know doesn’t give up. He never gives up. In fact, he’s a little like the Energizer Bunny and just about as annoying because he just doesn’t stop.”

           

His eyes actually focused and she felt a brief sense of relief before he spoke again. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought, then, luv. I only keep going when there’s something to keep going for.”

           

“You have me!” she protested. “And Dawn. And the others.”

           

He shook his head. “None of you really care about me, though. Y’might feel sorry for me, but it’s not like you actually care. Dru didn’t even really care, you know.”

           

“And I care, damn you!” she cried furiously. “If I didn’t care I would have let you dust after you fell off that tower. Everybody except for Dawn was ready to just let you die, but I couldn’t do it, because I cared.”

           

“But you’re not real,” he whispered, and there was fear in his eyes. Buffy suddenly realized that he wasn’t afraid to die; he was afraid that she wasn’t real. And he didn’t want to live in a world where that was even a possibility.

           

“I’m as real as you are,” she replied. “Besides, Angelus is a big liar, and you know it, stupid. I can’t believe you’d actually listen to him.”

           

Spike gave her a long look, and then glanced at the sky. It was beginning to lighten in the east. Buffy knew he had only a few more minutes if he didn’t start moving, and she waited for his decision. “Then let’s go inside, luv, because I’d rather be with an imaginary Buffy than a real Angelus anyway.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

She’d had to leave him there, with his promise that he would not, under any circumstances, step outside. Buffy would have much rather stayed with him until nightfall when they could both leave together, but the sooner he got the antidote in his system, the better off he’d be for sure. And now he was back in her bed again, sleeping off the last effects of the drug.

           

He stirred slightly as she stroked his hair, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed blue eyes. “Hey.”

           

“Hey, y’self,” he said, his voice still slurred with sleep. “Time is it?”

           

“It’s after midnight,” she replied. “You’ve been asleep for a few hours. Do you remember getting back here?”

           

He nodded. “Y’kept talking to me, making sure I wasn’t going back.” He didn’t have to elaborate on where it was he kept going back to.

           

She swallowed. “How hard was it for you to stay here, Spike?”

           

He focused in on her, some of the confusion leaving his eyes. “Not hard to stay, luv, just hard to believe. I kept thinking maybe I’d never left that chair, and none of this was real. And after a while, it didn’t feel as real as that other place, and I wanted to die.”

           

It was said so simply it made Buffy want to cry. “This is real, Spike. This—thing between us, how I feel, how you feel, it’s crazy and messy and completely impossible. But it’s real. We’ll have to deal with it at some point, I guess, when you get better or something, but for right now, I just want you close to me. You’re one of the reasons I don’t give up.”

           

He smiled at her sweetly. There was no malice in the look, no cocky assurance. It was simply a happy Spike, and Buffy suddenly wanted to see him look like that a lot more often. “Didn’t you know, luv?” he asked quietly. “You’re my only reason for not giving up.” And there were no more words for the rest of the night.


	18. Bonds

“What is this, Buffy?” Spike asked quietly as her finger made gentle circles on his bare chest. He lay, mostly content, in the Slayer’s bed. He hadn’t gone back to the basement since the incident with what Buffy called the gargling demon, and he was just a little confused. Buffy had seemed to make some sort of decision regarding her feelings for him, but she hadn’t let him in on the secret. Not that he was complaining, he was just curious.

           

“What’s what?” she asked, her head resting on his shoulder. She loved the look of his skin in the moonlight. When he slept, so still and quiet, the hard planes of his body looked as though they had been etched in marble. And her hands couldn’t help but touch him, her almost-lover.

           

“This,” he replied. “You know what.”

           

And she did. She just wasn’t sure what the answer was herself. “Does it have to be anything? Can’t it just be now?”

           

He sighed, knowing that he would accept anything from her, and everything. That if she were to turn from him tomorrow, he would take that too. Maybe not lying down, but he would take it. His greatest goal was her happiness, even if it meant nothing but pain for himself.

           

She heard his sigh, and thought she knew the reason for it. She felt bad because her answers were so inadequate. “Spike,” she began, and she could feel him tense at her tone. “I don’t know that I’ll ever feel for you the way you feel about me.”

           

“Buffy, it’s—”

           

“Hush,” she commanded gently. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said to me at the Bronze that night, about everybody being wrapped up in their own problems. And you were right. Pretty much everything and everyone I thought was stable went and imploded on me.” This time he stayed silent as she paused, sensing that she wasn’t yet done. “But what you said that night, you of all people had the most right to complain, and you didn’t. You haven’t, and I started to realize that everything I do have, Dawn and being alive, you gave me.”

           

“Buffy, I just want you to be happy,” he said.

           

“I know, and you don’t demand that I do anything, you’re just there, doing whatever you can,” she said, looking at him almost tenderly. So gently that his non-existent breath caught. “And then I got to thinking that I might not have much time here, and you might not either. We both know that something can go wrong in a second, and I’ve had a lot of close calls already, so I’ve made up my mind to live.”

           

“Is that what this is, then?” he asked gently.

           

“That’s what this is,” she agreed. “I don’t know what this means, Spike, but I know I care about you, and the way I feel about you is a little more than just friends. And maybe someday it might be love. And maybe it won’t be. But I want to be with you.” She looked at him with real regret. “I’m sorry it can’t be more right now.”

           

“No,” he replied, stroking her hair back from his face. “What you feel for me is more than I hoped for. I can wait for the rest.”

           

“And if the rest never comes?” she asked, not wanting to get his hopes up.

           

“Then it doesn’t. I’m willing to take that chance.” And he was. Maybe the odds were against him, maybe it was completely foolish to hope for her love, even in the distant future, but the pay-off if it did come—He could wait, and he would risk his unbeating heart and his cold body for it all. That was what love was all about—risking it all.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike was puttering around the kitchen when Buffy came storming inside. “Look at this!” she demanded, shoving a black bundle into his hand. He blinked slowly, still a little dazed from sleep. He was gradually becoming accustomed to daylight hours, but it still took him a while to wake up.

           

“And what exactly am I looking at, luv?” he asked with a touch of amusement.

           

She stared at him. “It’s a camera.”

           

“Okay…”

           

“It was in a lawn gnome in my front yard,” she explained heatedly.

           

He blinked again, and then understanding began to dawn. “Someone’s been spying on us?” he asked, incredulous. “Who would have the stones to spy on the Slayer?”

           

She looked grim. “Who’s been making my life difficult the last few months?” she spat. “I swear, when I get my hands on those geeks, they’re gonna wish they’d never been born.” She sighed and shook her head. “Willow’s coming over in a few minutes to work her magic.” Buffy gave him a quick look and smiled a little. “Not literally.”

           

“Course not,” he said, turning the camera over in his hand. “You don’t think there are more of these little buggers stashed around here, do you?”

           

She shook her head. “No clue, hopefully that’s one of the things Willow will be able to help us find out. Were you planning on going out tonight?” The question was asked nonchalantly, in such a way as to let Spike know it was no more than friendly curiosity, with a touch of concern about his general well being.

           

“Not as such, no,” he replied, putting the camera back down on the counter and leaning into his crutches. “Did need to go to the Magic Box for some burba weed. Told Tara I’d pick up anything she needed while I was at it. Did you need something, pet?”

           

Buffy smiled at him, touched his arm. “No, just thought it’d be nice to have you around tonight if you were gonna be here. We may need you.”

           

“What, a useless cripple?” he said, trying to joke, but she reproved him.

           

“You’re not useless, Spike.”

           

“I know, luv. I’m not good for much in a fight though,” he said seriously. “And besides, these blokes are human. Wouldn’t be able to do much about them anyway.”

           

“Maybe not, but you can guard the gold,” she said with a smile.

           

He grinned back at her. “There’s gold? No one ever said anything about any bloody gold.”

           

“It’s the most well-kept Scooby secret,” she replied in a mock whisper. “Now that you know, you’re one of us.”

           

His eyes darkened with emotion. “I’m one of you?”

           

“I told you you were,” she said, their play turning serious. “You belong to me, remember?” And suddenly she was really close to him, their lips almost touching. So close she could feel his breath against her skin, and she suddenly wondered why he was always breathing. It would be so easy to kiss him, just another inch…

           

“Buffy!” Xander’s voice came from the hall, and Buffy froze. Spike’s eyes watched hers, wondering when she would come to her senses and jump away from him. But there was no jumping, only a quick peck on the lips and a secretive smile before she was off in a swirl of blond hair, leaving only her faint scent behind. A slow grin split Spike’s face as he realized what had just happened. She loved him; she just hadn’t admitted it yet.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike pushed open the door to the Magic Box and instantly wished he’d stayed home. Anya stood at the counter chatting with Halfrek, who happened to be on Spike’s list of “people he did

 _not_ want to see.”

           

“Just a minute,” Anya called to him, and then retreated off to the side where they held a hastily whispered conference. Spike would bet his poker winnings that Anya was Anyanka again. He could hear some of the words quite clearly, like “wish”, “Xander”, and “curse.” And if he slipped up and got Xander cursed, Buffy would most assuredly kill him.

           

“What can I help you with?” Anya asked, coming over to where he stood. Spike was certain Anya had never smiled at him like that before, and he was even more certain that she wanted something from him.

           

“Uh, I need some burba weed and a few things for Glinda. Got a list right here.” Spike put the list on the counter and slid it over to her.

           

She smiled at him again, and Spike felt his nervousness grow. The way he felt about Harris these days, it would be easy to have a slip of the tongue. “I can get these for you in just a second.”

           

Spike hesitated, wanting to say something to her, and yet not wanting to bring up the subject at all for fear of the consequences. “I’m sorry about the wedding, you know,” he said softly, hoping that she would be content with his sympathy.

           

She stared at him for a long moment, surprised that he would offer it. No one had been this sympathetic; the rest of them had been bent on telling her how much Xander was hurting and how bad he felt. And Spike—Spike!—was so sincere. Anya reached below the counter and pulled out a bottle. “Do you want a drink?” she asked, because she knew she did, and she knew Spike hadn’t drank much since he’d been hurt.

           

And Spike knew the look on her face well. It never hurt to have a friendly ear while you were drowning your sorrows, and none of the other Scoobies would do it. “Sure, luv,” he said gently. “Let’s have a drink then.”

           

On a different day, Spike would have joined in her listing of miseries, but today he was fairly certain Buffy was falling for him. (At least a little bit.) So he mainly just listened to her, taking one shot to her two or three. He knew he needed to keep his wits about him, otherwise he might just curse the Whelp because he’d hurt her so badly and he deserved it. And because if he was going to be walking home, he needed the complete use of his faculties.

           

“It’s just not fair,” she said finally. “I never asked to be human.” Spike nodded sympathetically. “All I wanted to do was use him and lose him. I hadn’t had a good tumble in a thousand years.”

           

“And it turned out to be more,” he prompted.

           

“Yes,” she sighed. “He was bumpy in all the right places, and nice to me. And the next thing you know, I’m changing to please him, and I care if he cares.”

           

“Don’t I know it,” Spike replied, thinking of all the changes he’d made for Buffy.

           

“But even after everything I did, it was never enough for him.” She leaned into the table, a melancholy look on her face. “He thought I was rude.”

           

“You’re not rude, luv,” he replied, smiling at her. “Straightforward, and maybe a little blunt, but that’s a virtue. You don’t hide behind rules and regulations like the rest of them. Nothing wrong with that. Wanker didn’t understand; he’s too uptight.”

           

“You really think so?” she asked.

           

“I know so.” Spike poured the last of the alcohol out of the bottle. “Here, ladies last,” he said, pushing the glass towards her. He’d had a bit more to drink than he’d originally planned on, but not enough to get himself drunk. Anya, on the other hand, was well on her way.

           

“Thank you.”

           

He frowned, laughed a little. “It’s okay. But you’d better take it quick before my chivalry runs out.”

           

“No, thank you.” Anya leaned forward, her face intense. “It’s so nice to actually be with someone who listens, who doesn’t keep telling me how bad Xander feels.” Spike kept his silence. “This whole time, I’ve been coming on all hell-bent and mad. Wanting his head you know?”

           

Spike nodded. “Yeah.”

           

“When really, I can’t sleep at night, thinking it’s my fault somehow—” Spike shook his head, shushing her, putting a hand up to brush the hair out of her face. It broke his heart to see her like this, and he didn’t stop to question it. Maybe evil vampires weren’t supposed to feel sympathy, but he’d already made his choice, sometime in the past. He couldn’t even convince himself that he was evil anymore.

           

“I mean, what if he was pretending? What if he never wanted me the way I wanted him?” The tears started falling faster, and Spike gently wiped them away with his thumb, with no other motive than to offer her a little comfort.

           

“Anya, he’d have to be more than the git he is. He’d have to be deaf, blind, and dumb not to want a woman like you.” Spike willed her to see the truth in his eyes, to somehow cushion the blow she’d been dealt, to make the hurt ease just a little.

           

“Then why?” she cried.

           

“He’s just weak is all,” Spike said softly. He suddenly realized how close they were, and started to pull away.

           

Anya leaned forward. “Spike—”

           

“I’m sorry, luv, I can’t,” he said, truly regretful. Even if he thought this would help her, he couldn’t do it. Because of Buffy, and because of other things.

           

She frowned, pulled back. “Oh. You’re right, I—”

           

“It’s not you, luv, not at all,” he assured her. “But you know how I feel about Buffy.” Spike hesitated. He couldn’t believe he was going to say this, but—“And _I_ can’t.”

           

Anya frowned slightly, not understanding, and then her eyes widened. “Oh. Oh! Spike, I’m sorry.”

           

“Don’t be,” he murmured. “Look, you need someone to talk to, or anything, I’m your vamp.”

           

Tears began to trickle down her cheeks again. “Why are you being so nice?”

           

“Guess I got tired of playing the villain, is all,” he said and then pulled her to him as she cried into his shoulder. “Shh. Let it all out, pet. Just let it all out.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Buffy watched idly as Willow tapped her computer keys. “Almost got it,” the red head mumbled.

“There. I’m seeing some other feeds too. Give me a minute and I should be able to see where those go to.” She smiled up at Tara, who stood just behind her shoulder. They had had a good day, meeting for coffee and talking, in spite of Anya’s interruption. She was actually hopeful that they might manage to work everything out.

           

“And there’s—” Willow broke off as she recognized Spike and Anya.

           

Tara frowned as she leaned toward the screen. “What are they doing?” she asked. It looked like a really tender moment between the two of them, easily mistaken for something romantic.

           

Buffy and Xander came to stand behind them, just in time to see Spike pulling back from Anya. They watched as he said something to her, something that made her eyes widen in surprise, and then as he pulled her into an embrace to cry on his shoulder.

           

Buffy couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. She knew Spike’s heart was hers, but still, to see him comforting another woman so sweetly was definitely with the jealous-making, even though she knew it was foolish. Of course, jealous didn’t even begin to cover the look on Xander’s face.

           

“What—” he said, breaking off. “What is she doing with him?”

           

“It looks like he’s giving her a hug,” Tara offered hesitantly. “Spike can be a pretty comforting guy when he wants to be.”

           

“Right,” he grated. “Fine. So she goes to a vampire for cold comfort.” He turned away from the screen almost violently. “I can’t watch this.”

           

Buffy glanced at him, frowning. Spike was giving Anya a hug, which was more than any of the rest of them had done, she realized with a feeling of guilt. As the wronged party, she hadn’t received much sympathy from the rest of them, so it was probably a good thing that Spike was there for her. “Buffy?” Dawn stood next to her, touching her on the arm. “Are you okay?”

           

Buffy smiled at her younger sister. “Yeah, I’m okay, Dawnie. I’m just being a little stupid tonight.”

           

“He really loves you, you know,” Dawn replied, her face serious. “That’s the thing about Spike, once he loves you, he always does.”

           

“I know.” She glanced at the screen. Spike was still obviously comforting Anya. “He’s a good friend.”

           

“Buffy,” Willow called anxiously, having gotten up to go after Xander. “Xander’s gone. And he took your ax.”

           

~~~~~ 

 

Anya finally pulled back, wiping at her eyes. “I got you all soggy.”

           

“It’s all right, luv,” Spike said, reaching out to push the hair back from her face. “You’re gonna be all right, you know.”

           

She managed a watery smile. “Someday, maybe.”

           

“No maybes,” he replied, his eyes gentle. He might have said more, but he found himself sprawled across the floor, Xander standing over him. The attack had come out of nowhere, and was completely unexpected. “What the bloody hell?” he demanded angrily, looking at Harris from his prone position.

           

“Get your hands off of her, freak.” Xander’s voice was low and angry, and he held a very large ax in his hand.

           

“Xander!” Anya protested. “What do you think you’re doing?”  
           

“I’m doing what someone should have done a long time ago. Put the undead thing out of his misery.” The man shifted the weapon in his hand, obviously prepared to do just that when Buffy burst through the front door of the shop.

           

“Xander!” she said, coming over to stand protectively in front of Spike. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I told you. You don’t get to dust Spike.”

           

Thwarted, he stared at the two women angrily. “You don’t get it, do you?” He turned to Anya. “He was just making nice to get to you. He’s obsessed with Buffy and he can’t have her, so he’s going after you.”

           

“He wasn’t going after me, Xander,” Anya said quite calmly, all her tears having been cried out earlier. And she had the added benefit of knowing she wasn’t the one in the wrong. “In fact, he turned me down.”

           

“How can you let him touch you?” Xander demanded, not really hearing her. “He’s a thing, an evil, undead thing. What kind of comfort could you get from that?”

           

“Maybe the same kind of comfort he’s given me, Xander,” Buffy said quietly, causing him to turn and look at her. “Anya wasn’t doing anything wrong, and neither was Spike. I think you need to cool down.”

           

But Xander hadn’t paid any attention to what she said, except for the first part. “You have slept with him, haven’t you? You let him—” The ax clattered to the floor. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

           

Spike was watching the entire scene from his position on the floor, not wanting to open his mouth. He waited for Buffy to tell him, to explain to her friend that she hadn’t slept with him in the sense that he meant. That they couldn’t have had sex because he was incapable. What she did say shocked the hell out of him.

           

“We’ve been sharing a bed off and on since Thanksgiving, Xander,” Buffy said quietly. “What’s more, Spike isn’t evil and he isn’t a thing.” Turning to Anya, she said with great sincerity, “I’m sorry, Anya. I really am.”

           

Anya looked at her and almost smiled. “Thank you, Buffy, I appreciate that.” And then she looked at Xander. “I don’t want to see you for a while, Xander. I don’t want to see you for a very long while. Even if what I did was any of your business, which it’s not, Spike was very kind to me. More than anyone else has been. Maybe you should take lessons.”

           

Xander stared at the three of them for a long moment before turning on his heel and leaving without another word. Buffy and Anya grabbed Spike’s crutches and helped him up in silence. There really wasn’t anything left to say.

           

“See you around, Anyanka,” Spike called as he and Buffy left the shop together. “How did you know I was there?” he asked once they were safely out of earshot.

           

Buffy looked over and gave him a wry smile. “Willow managed to trace some of those cameras and find others. There was one in the Magic Box.”

           

Spike almost looked embarrassed. “Look, Buffy I don’t know what you thought you saw, but—”

           

“I thought I saw someone comforting a friend,” she interrupted.

           

“Oh, well, then that’s what you saw.” He shook his head. “I just wasn’t sure, with Harris on the warpath. We didn’t do anything, but…”

           

“I know you didn’t, Spike,” she replied. “And I know you wouldn’t. You’re not that kind of guy.”

           

“Not hardly, pet.”

           

They walked along without saying anything for a while until Buffy broke the silence. “What is it, Spike? Everything seems to fall apart. Xander, Anya, it’s just spinning out of control, and I feel like I can’t do anything to stop it.”

           

He stopped and put a hand on her arm. They were on the walkway to her house now, and he looked at the windows, some dark, some still lit. “It’ll work out, Buffy. People change, and sometimes they hurt each other. And sometimes it does seem like everything’s going to hell all at once, but there are things that keep it together, like love and friendship. Those are bonds that can’t be broken, luv, even if they get stretched sometimes.”

           

His hand moved to her face, and his tone grew both quieter and more intense. “Give it some time, and they’ll come around, Xander and Anya. The rest of them. Because they love you, and that’s what keeps it all from falling apart, even if it doesn’t look that way sometimes.”

           

“And what about you, Spike?” she asked. “What keeps you together?”

           

He grinned. “Seeing the look on the Whelp’s face tonight when you told him we were sleeping together helps.” He laughed as she hit him on the arm, though not hard enough to really hurt. “But seeing the look on your face tonight when you came to my rescue, that’s what keeps it together for me.”

           

“I don’t love you, Spike,” she warned him.

           

“Yet.” He gave her a knowing look. “You don’t love me yet, but I plan on being around just in case you ever do. That’s what love is all about, Buffy. Risking everything. Giving everything. I might be Love’s bitch, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

           

Any other night, Buffy might have argued with him, but she knew he spoke the truth. She didn’t love him yet. But she had a feeling that if he stuck around long enough, he might get his payoff. She put her hand up to caress the cool hand that lay on her cheek. “Let’s go inside, Spike.”

           

He followed her, and as he followed her up the stairs, he began to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” she whispered.

           

“Red’s still here,” he replied, also whispering. “And she’s with Glinda. Didn’t I tell you? Bonds of love, you can stretch them, but they don’t break. Not when you really love each other.” Buffy looked at him, at the warmth shining in his eyes, and she couldn’t help but believe what he said. That everything would be okay in time. She realized once again that over the last year he had been her anchor in all the chaos, and she couldn’t help but be grateful that he was still there, even after all that had happened. And with a smile, she motioned him to follow her to bed.


	19. The Death of Innocence

“Buffy, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Spike protested. They stood in the kitchen, he strategically keeping out of the patches of sunlight.

           

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Buffy replied, taking a swallow of her coffee. She gave him a sympathetic look. “I know you worry about me, Spike, but I’m the Slayer. This is what I do.”

           

He looked away and finished off the rest of his blood. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he mumbled.

           

She smiled. Normally she might have been angry that he was worried, but her attitude had shifted just a little bit over the last months. Now she just thought it was cute. “I know, but I can handle three nerds. I promise.” She came over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ll be careful.”

 

Buffy had no doubt she could handle herself, and she had no doubt she was right. It only made sense that the house they were closest to on the list when the gargling demon attacked was the one the nerds were using to hide out. She wanted to go this morning. She was still fuming about those cameras.

           

He gave her a rueful smile. “You do that, luv.” Spike stroked her cheek. “Don’t know what it would do to me if I lost you.”

           

Her breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes. It was infinitely tender, amazingly gentle. And utterly adoring. Had anyone ever looked at her like that? She could only touch his face in reply, a silent promise. Spike continued to stare at the place she had left long after she had gone, Dawn’s voice finally breaking into his thoughts. “So, you and my sister, huh?”

           

He turned to look at her. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen in her pajamas, completely comfortable around him after a year of sharing a house. “We might be moving in that direction,” he acknowledged uncomfortably.

           

Dawn rolled her eyes expressively and pulled out a bowl for her cereal. “Which is why you haven’t spent a night in the basement in weeks.”

           

Spike shook his head. “It’s not like you think, Bit,” he said. “We’re moving slow, and I don’t know that Buffy’s sure what she wants.”

           

“But you love her.” Dawn’s words were a statement, not a question, and they both knew it. At his silent nod, she gave him a knowing look. “She wants you. She just hasn’t admitted it yet.” Spike looked a little uncertain. It ran that way with him; one day he was completely certain of how Buffy felt, other days he hadn’t a clue and hope was low. Today he was questioning how long this stage of their relationship would go on, with him hanging on her every word, unsure of his future. “Trust me, Spike,” Dawn said quietly. “She really, really likes you. I think she’s happier with you now than she’s been in a long time.”

           

He looked at her and a smile softened his harsh features. “Thanks, Niblet. You’re a good friend, you know. A good sister.”

           

Dawn’s face lit up and she gave him a hug. Then she looked up at him, excitement written across her face. “Tara and Willow made up! They’re—”

           

“Upstairs even as we speak,” Spike interrupted with a smile.

           

Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”

           

“Enhanced vampire senses. I could smell them.”

           

Dawn got a look on her face that was somewhere between “cool” and “ewww.” “That might have been more than I needed to know.”

           

He grinned. “Come on, Bit. Let’s see what’s on the telly. I’m sure those two birds won’t mind if we ignore them for a while.”

           

~~~~~ 

 

“I wanted to talk to you.” Buffy stood in Xander’s doorway. He already had a beer in his hand, which didn’t bode well for their conversation. She’d never had much luck talking to drunks.

           

He swung the door open wider. “Come on in. There’s plenty more where this came from.”

           

“It’s a little early for me.” Buffy followed him in the door, concern drawing her face down as she saw the mess his apartment had become. It was pretty much trashed, and only some of the mess came from not picking up; the rest was self-made. She sighed. “Xander, I’m sorry about what happened last night.”

           

“What, so you’re sorry for banging the undead bloodsucker right under our noses? Is that it?” The look on her friend’s face was hurt, angry, bitter. She hated it when Xander got like this, because he usually became cruel as well.

           

Suddenly Buffy was sorry she’d come. She’d wanted to make up with Xander, maybe even explain that there wasn’t any sex going on. (Without telling him about Spike’s condition.) But she realized that he was in the mood to do a lot of shouting and not much listening, and that was what talking things through would require. Him doing some listening. “Forget it, Xander,” she said quietly. “You don’t want to even try to understand.”

           

He stood, his face twisted in anger. “So you’re going back to someone who does understand, is that it?” he demanded.

           

“What if I am?” she cried. “You don’t get it, Xander. Spike has changed. He’s done so much for me this last year, more than just saving Dawn. He’s been there. You know that, you seemed to accept that.”

           

“But I never forgot what he is, Buffy! He doesn’t have a soul! All he’s got is some leash the government jammed inside his head.” And that’s what this boiled down to, Buffy knew. No soul equals no good, no matter what. She understood how Xander could feel that way, she had been there herself. But she’d found herself questioning all of that the night Spike chose to keep the chip. If he hadn’t changed, he should have jumped at the chance to be free of it.

           

She looked him in the eye. “I’m not sure I believe that anymore. I don’t think Spike would hurt any of us if the chip came out.”

           

“Would you stake Dawn’s life on it?” Xander asked.

           

She hesitated. Then remembered Spike’s face after he was tortured by Glory. His immediate question when he woke after falling off the tower. All the things he’d done for her sister. “I already have,” she said, and walked out the door.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike laid back on Buffy’s bed, half reading, half keeping an ear out for her return. Concern gnawed at his thoughts. After this morning’s near escape with the buzz saws and then the rather distressing conversation with Harris, who was still being a complete ponce, he wasn’t at all sure she was up to a patrol. Of course, she was equally sure that she was. Stubborn girl.

           

He sat up abruptly as she limped into the room. “You’re hurt.”

           

Buffy winced. “I got kicked into a tombstone by a dusty vampire. Which is just wrong.”

           

Grabbing his crutches, he swung himself over to her. “Let me see.” He watched her hesitate, and then she sat on the bed obediently, pulling her shirt up. Spike winced for her. “That’s one nasty bruise, luv. Think you should get yourself into a nice hot bath and soak for a while.”

           

She gave him a grateful look. “That sounds wonderful.”

           

He touched her cheek and leaned down to give her a soft kiss. “Why don’t you change, and I’ll start up the bath water?” He was as good as his word, and he made sure the water wasn’t going to be too hot for her before she came in, walking stiffly. He was going to take himself out since he and Buffy hadn’t really gotten to the “being comfortable naked” stage. Well, _Buffy_ hadn’t gotten to that stage, he didn’t much care, but there were times he knew not to push his luck.

           

“Wait,” she called. “Would you sit with me?”

           

Spike stared at her. This was a new level, and not one he was sure about. “Sure, luv.” He turned his back as she got herself into the tub, and then slid down the wall so he could see her, but not really see over the rim. He watched as the emotions played across her face and suddenly wished he could promise her everything was going to be okay. “He’ll come around, Buffy.”

           

She glanced up at him, startled by his words. “Xander? Maybe, maybe not. We’ve all changed, Spike, over this last year. Sometimes I look at my friends and don’t recognize them at all.”

           

He cocked his head to the side, understanding why she would feel that way, and knowing that it was the way of things sometimes, to change and take different paths. “Happens, pet. Give it some time. Harris’ll either come back around and you’ll be fine, or he won’t. I know that’s not real comforting, but—”

           

“That’s the way it goes,” Buffy finished for him. “Spike. Can I ask you a question?”

           

“Sure, luv.”

           

“If you got the chip out tomorrow, what would you do?”

           

Spike suddenly sensed that their entire future rested on what he said and whether or not Buffy believed him. “There’s a part of me that would like to say I’d go back to exactly what I was,” he said honestly. “And then there’s another part of me that knows that’s not an option anymore. I’m _not_ what I was, Buffy. I never will be again. I made my choice somewhere along the way, and I’ll stay with it. But if it makes you feel any better, it’s not just about you, pet. It’s about me. I like being a man. Like being treated like one.” He smiled, and it held a touch of wistfulness in it. “I’m not a very good vampire, you know. Angelus, now, he would have had this chip out of his head before the first month was out.”

           

“Then let’s be glad you’re not Angelus,” Buffy said softly, and in her tone he heard acceptance. Of course, accepting it now, and accepting it if the chip ever stopped working was a totally different story.

           

Spike tried to lighten the mood. “Besides, luv. Humans are too easy anymore. Except for the Slayer, there’s no challenge, and I’m in love with you, which means I can’t kill you. Killing demons is a lot more interesting.”

           

Buffy laughed. “You know, that I’ll believe. I’d better get out. This is great, but I’ve got some evil nerds to stop.”

           

“Right then,” he said, levering himself up off the floor.

           

“Spike.” He turned, giving his quizzical look, head and eyebrow cocked. “There’s some ointment in the drawer that Tara gave me for bruises. Would you rub it on?”

           

He smiled. “Sure, luv.” He pulled the ointment out and swung himself back into her room to wait. She smiled as she walked in, and sat down on the edge of the bed, letting her robe slip down to puddle on the covers. He wanted to gasp, to tell her how beautiful she was, even with the night’s work livid on her skin. Instead, he began to spread the ointment on gently, slowly, cool fingers working their magic on the tender bruise. And it was her turn to gasp as his lips brushed her skin, kissing it to make it better.

           

Spike couldn’t help himself. He ran a hand down one bare arm and breathed in deeply of her scent. “Oh, luv. You’re so beautiful.”

           

She turned to look at him, and his fair skin and hair seemed to almost glow in the lamplight, lending him a warmer tone. “So are you,” she said with a smile, and brought the robe back up around her shoulders just as Xander’s voice floated up the stairs. Spike took her hint and gave her one last kiss on her neck before exiting her room.

           

He waited for her to come out before going downstairs, having no desire to see the Whelp again. Spike was fairly certain that Buffy had made her point, and the boy wouldn’t try to stake him, but he wasn’t really in the mood to try his luck. When she came out, however, he followed her down. Xander ignored him as best as he could while he explained what had happened at the Bronze, and Willow told the Slayer what she’d managed to find in between breaks with Tara. And then Buffy was off to stop the trio and Tara and Willow headed back upstairs. And Spike was left alone with Xander.

           

Silence reigned, neither man willing to say anything. Finally, Xander spoke. “If you hurt her, I will stake you. You know that right?”

           

The vampire met his eyes solemnly. “If I hurt her, I’ll let you.”

           

Xander nodded stiffly. “As long as we understand each other then.” Spike smiled, but said nothing in reply. He understood completely, and the truce was acceptable.

 

~~~~~ 

 

“Time for the Spring Poking already?”

           

Buffy turned to look at Xander as he ambled into her backyard, a somewhat sheepish expression on his face. “Just checking to make sure there aren’t any more Evil Trio cameras. Or Evil Uno.”

           

“The sinister yet addictive card game?”

           

Buffy smiled at him. It was so easy to slip into their old patterns, the old way of speaking. “Warren. Jonathan and Andrew got kinked, but Warren pulled a Rocket Man. It was a thing.”

           

Xander smiled and looked down at his feet. “You’ll get him. He won’t be much good without his friends.”

           

“No. He won’t,” Buffy replied, understanding perfectly.

           

Xander shook his head, searching for the right words to say and not coming up with any. “I wish you would have told me about Spike before. It hurt that you wouldn’t trust me.”

           

She shook her head and took a seat on the bench next to him. “We aren’t actually sleeping together, Xander. I mean we are, but we aren’t—you know.”

           

He frowned. “You mean, you and he haven’t…?”

           

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. But somewhere along the way we got to be friends. Maybe it’s completely crazy, but Spike makes me feel safe.”

           

Xander let out a snort and smiled. “I hate myself for saying it, but it doesn’t sound as crazy as it probably should have. Besides, Spike and I have reached an understanding. He hurts you, he dies. End of story.”

           

“If I need someone to protect me, I know who to go to,” she said.

           

“I wouldn’t be any good without you or Will, you know?” Xander asked, desperate for some reassurance that everything would be okay between the two of them.

           

Buffy gave him a fierce hug. “I love you. You know that, right?”

           

Xander opened his mouth to reply and then his eyes widened in horror. “Buffy—”

           

Warren came from nowhere, gun in hand. Buffy didn’t even catch what he said; she was too busy shoving Xander out of the way of the bullets she knew were coming. The next thing she knew, there was a burning pain in her left shoulder, and she could feel her life slipping through Xander’s fingers. ‘Funny way to go,’ she thought. ‘Killed by a nerd in broad daylight.’

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike shot bolt upright on the bed, brought awake by the sound of shots fired and the sweet, hot smell of human blood. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, pulling the brace on his left leg and grabbing his crutches.

           

By the time he was out in the hallway, he could hear the sounds of Willow’s keening changing into something else altogether, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up as he felt the power charging the air around him. He found himself frozen in place, unable to move, until the witch came stalking out the door, her eyes black and her face a blank mask.

           

“Red?” he called cautiously.

           

“Stay out of my way, vampire,” she advised.

           

Spike blinked. The only time she’d even come close to sounding like that was after Buffy had gone all catatonic and she took charge. He decided not to push her. But there was still the matter of the blood. And he took one step into the bedroom that had been Joyce’s and knew. “No,” he whispered. “Please, God, no.”

           

Tara was dead of course. He could sense it, and the smell of blood (so much of it) was about driving him crazy. He wanted it. He wanted it so bad, and yet he refused to do that to her. Spike ran a hand over his face, surprised at the wetness he found there. He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying.

           

He would have to do something, call the ambulance, maybe. And then he heard the sirens, knowing somehow that they were for Buffy. From the place in the room that was safest from the sun he could still see out the bedroom window. Xander hovering over the Slayer’s still form, the paramedics beginning to arrive. He had no way to get their attention, not from the bedroom, and not mid-morning. So he picked up the phone and dialed 911. “This is William, from 1630 Revello,” he said, glancing back at Tara’s still form yet again. “We need another ambulance. There was a stray shot.”


	20. The End of It All

Spike sat on the couch, watching as the last of them left. He still hadn’t heard from Xander or Willow. Or Buffy for that matter. He hadn’t had time to call the hospital until just now, what with the police and the paramedics and everyone else who had paraded in and out over the last few hours.

           

What he wanted was to get to the hospital, to find out for himself what had happened to the Slayer, but he couldn’t lie to himself. It would be near impossible to get to the sewers on crutches before bursting into flames; just as difficult to make his way over there. He simply wasn’t mobile enough. What’s more, Dawn would be home in a little while, and someone needed to be there, to explain—

           

‘What was there to explain?’ he wondered. Over a century of existence, and he still couldn’t explain why someone like Tara would be the one to die. A stupid stray shot from a stupid nerd. And if Spike even thought it possible, he would be out there hunting Warren down himself.

           

Forcing himself out of his thoughts, he went to the phone and dialed the hospital, asking for information on Buffy Summers. “Are you family?” the voice asked.

           

Spike silently begged Buffy’s apology as he answered. “I’m her boyfriend. I’m waiting for her sister to get home from school.”

           

“Miss Summers was in surgery until just a little while ago,” the woman said.

           

“Then she’s alright?” Spike asked, relief flooding through him.

           

The woman harrumphed. “A little more than alright, I’d say. She got up off the table and walked away. Without having a doctor look at her.”

           

Spike blinked twice, and managed to thank her before hanging up. Not that he wasn’t thrilled Buffy was going to be completely okay, but he had a feeling her miraculous recovery had a lot to do with Willow. He had an even stronger feeling that things were going to get very ugly.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Dawn swung the door open and peered around the hallway. “Hello? Buffy? Is anyone at home?”

           

“In here, Bit.” Spike’s voice was even rougher than usual, and when Dawn saw him she knew immediately that something was very wrong.

           

“What happened?” she asked flatly, coming over to stand in front of him as he sat on the couch.

           

He shook his head. “Sit down, Niblet.” When she didn’t move, he patted the couch next to him and rephrased. “Please, Dawn. Sit.”

           

Dawn felt the bottom of her stomach fall. He never used her name, never. She sat. “Spike, please, what happened?”

           

He wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Luv. There was a shooting—”

           

“Buffy!” Dawn froze, torn between running and staying.

           

“Not Buffy,” he said stiltedly. “Your sister’s fine, Bit. She got hit, but she’s fine. It was Tara. There was a stray shot, and—” He broke off, unable to actually say it. Tara had been his friend; he’d liked her. She’d sat with him as he cried.

           

Dawn shook her head. “No, Spike. No. You’re lying. You have to be lying. Not—not Tara.”

           

“I’m so sorry, Dawn,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms out of instinct. Somehow knowing she needed to feel someone as much as he did at that moment. “I’m sorry.”

           

It was that last apology that did Dawn in. He sounded broken, and Spike was never broken. Bent maybe, or depressed even. But not broken, not grieving so hard she could hear the tears in his voice. If Spike cried, then it was really real. “No,” she repeated, but this time it was not a denial of the fact, it was a denial of the sense of it. But she let him hold her as she sobbed, never realizing that he was crying his own silent tears.

 

~~~~~ 

 

When Buffy came back to the house, it was dark outside, and she was more tired than she ever remembered being. In some ways, this was much worse than when her mother died. Joyce’s death had been horrible, yes, even senseless. But Tara’s death was that much more insane, and Willow’s sudden falling off the wagon, even if it was understandable, meant that she might be facing one of her best friends as the Slayer. That’s what made this worse.

           

“Buffy!” Dawn flew out of the living room into her sister’s arms and clung tightly. “Are you okay?”

           

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She looked past Dawn to see Spike struggling to his feet. He looked as worn as she felt, his face paler than normal, dark shadows ringing his eyes. And he’d been crying. “Are you guys okay?”

           

Dawn nodded. “I guess.”

           

“Spike?”

           

He shrugged. “Called an ambulance. They—they came and got Tara not long after they left with you. Thought you might show up here soon, so the Bit and I stayed put.”

           

She almost smiled, thinking that he’d put a wealth of information into those few words. He’d taken care of things, taken care of her sister. Again. “Thanks.” And then came the fun of briefing the two of them on Willow and what had happened and getting cleaned up.

           

Dawn was fiercely glad that Willow was going after Warren, and even Xander didn’t seem to have a problem with it. But Buffy understood that if she killed someone she would step over a line that shouldn’t be crossed. To her surprise, it was Spike that backed her up. “If it were up to me, I’d hunt the bastard down and rip his throat out,” he said bluntly. “And I could, ‘cause I’m an evil vampire. But the witch is human, and there are rules about things like this.” He paused. “She steps over that line, there’ll be hell to pay, and the Slayer’s going to be the one doing a lot of the judging. Know it doesn’t seem fair, luv, but that’s the way it is.” He looked at Dawn as he said it.

           

Buffy nodded. “Spike’s right. If Willow kills someone, I’m going to have to deal with her, and that’s the last thing I want. Xander and I can go to the Magic Box and see if we can’t do some kind of locater spell, something like that.” She looked at her sister. “Dawn, I want you to stay here with Spike. You guys aren’t to go anywhere. I won’t be able to focus on what I need to do if I’m worrying about either one of you.”

           

Dawn looked like she was going to protest, but Spike shook his head. “We’ll stay put, Slayer. You think the witch’ll come here?”

           

Buffy hesitated and then shook her head. “No, I don’t. She’s going to be too focused on Warren, but you never know. If she does show up, just be careful. I don’t think she’d go after us, but—” She broke off, unwilling to admit that she thought Willow might be far enough gone to stop caring at this point. “We should go.”

           

Xander nodded, heading for the door. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet, and Buffy knew he was having a hard time dealing with what had happened. Spike stood up to see them off, and she found herself turning at the door to look back at him. “I’ll take care of things, Slayer,” he said.

           

“I know,” she replied, wanting to go back and kiss him. For luck, or just because it was the end of the world again, she didn’t know. But she simply smiled and left, because that’s the way it worked with them.

 

~~~~~ 

 

They had turned the TV on in the living room, though neither of them was watching it. Dawn kept looking out the front window every few seconds, while Spike watched her and the telly in turn. Dawn finally lost patience. “Why do we have to stay here, Spike?” she asked angrily. “We could have helped.”

           

Spike sighed. Dawn was beginning to use her whiny voice, but he couldn’t blame her. He felt a little like whining himself, especially when they had no way of getting any kind of information as to what exactly was going on. “Buffy asked me to look after you, and she told the both of us to stay. So we’re staying.”

           

“Why?” she demanded. “You never listened to her before.”

           

“Sure I did,” he replied. “I listen to her every time the world’s coming to an end because she’s the one that has to save it and all.”

           

Dawn didn’t know how to respond to that one, since he was pretty much right. Even if he didn’t listen to Buffy at any other time, when it came to the real life-and-death battles, he had a tendency to pay attention. She sat next to him and heaved a sigh. She hated being relegated to staying behind like a child, but the real reason she wanted to be out with her sister saving the world was because she had a theory she wouldn’t be thinking nearly so much about Tara if she were busy.  

           

“I miss her already,” Dawn said suddenly.

           

Spike didn’t have to ask her who she was referring to. “I know, Bit. I do too.” They might have said more, but the front door blew open, and Spike felt a bolt of fear flow through him as he saw Willow enter. She’d fallen off the wagon, all right, but that wasn’t all that had happened. He could smell the power on her, and the blood, and he knew she’d killed tonight. He also knew that she had a taste for it right now.

           

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” she asked politely. “I just stopped by to pick up a few things, and I have a welcome party waiting for me.”

           

“Willow—” Dawn began, but Spike placed himself in between Willow and the girl before she could get any closer.

           

He smiled at her thinly. “You’ve been having some fun tonight, Red.”

           

She laughed. “Actually, I have. You have no idea how freeing it is just to let your hair down. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

           

“Willow, don’t do this,” Dawn begged. “I’m sorry about Tara, but you can’t just go back to the magic. It’s not right.”

           

“Dawnie, Dawnie,” Willow smiled cruelly. “What would you know about right and wrong? Huh? I seem to remember you breaking more than a few rules. In fact, I remember you were making life pretty tough for Buffy and everybody else. Whiny little Dawnie.”

           

“Willow, stop.” Dawn was almost in tears; she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Spike kept his silence but stood a little straighter. If he had to go for the witch, he needed to be ready.

           

“Willow, stop,” she mimicked. “You know, I seem to remember that you weren’t always Buffy’s kid sister. Once upon a time you were a green ball of energy. I’ll bet that would be an improvement.”

           

“That’s enough.” Spike’s voice grated out through clenched teeth. Willow was high enough on the magic to do something stupid at this point, like try to kill Buffy’s little sister. A murdering nerd was one thing; an innocent girl something else altogether.

           

Willow turned her wrath on him. “Or what? You’ll growl at me? Somehow I don’t find that real frightening at this point.” She smiled suddenly, and Spike grew very still and very cold. “You used to be scary though, didn’t you, Spike? Don’t you want to be scary again? Get that pesky little chip out of your head?”

           

“Think I’ll pass,” he said evenly, proud of himself for his steady voice.

           

Her smile grew wider. “Is that right? You know, I think it might be the right time to put you back together, Spike. I’m feeling real magnanimous right now. Besides, I’m sure you could find some nerds to snack on.” He didn’t even have time to brace himself. One second she was talking, and the next second it felt like someone’s hand was in his head, scrambling his brains. He realized that she would probably kill him, and he hoped that Dawn had the sense to run while Willow was otherwise occupied.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Buffy burst through the front door of the house, looking around for Willow. “Dawn! Spike!”

           

“Buffy, in here.” Spike lay unconscious on the floor, Dawn sitting in a miserable heap next to him. “She hurt him really bad.”

           

“What happened, Dawnie?” Buffy asked as patiently as she could. She’d found Rack’s place, and his body, and some sixth sense had led her back to the house, worried for Spike and Dawn. When she and Xander had seen her, Willow had seemed to get a lot of pleasure coming after her friends. Buffy couldn’t help but wonder if she’d go after the more helpless of them.

           

“Willow came. She was talking about turning me back into the Key, and then Spike stepped in front of me. She asked if he wanted the chip out, and then—” Dawn broke off. “I think she might have done it, Buffy. He was screaming really loud.”

           

Spike chose that moment to come back around, moaning as the pain penetrated the thick fog surrounding him. “Bit, you okay?” he asked.

           

“I’m fine, I’m right here,” she reassured him.

           

Buffy looked anxiously at her sister. “Why did Willow leave then?”

           

Dawn’s chin came up and her eyes hardened. “She left because I shot her with a crossbow and I told her I’d hit her between the eyes if she didn’t. You just missed her.”

           

Spike struggled to sit. “Good job, Niblet, but I was hoping you’d run. Bloody hell, my head hurts.”

           

“Spike, did she take out the chip?” Buffy’s voice entered the pain-fog, and he flinched, suddenly remembering her threat. In that instant he knew she’d done it. He wasn’t sure how he knew, since he hadn’t tried to hit anyone yet, but he knew. He put his face in his hands as he realized what that meant, as he remembered what the deal between he and Buffy had been. There were rules in this game, and one of them had just gotten broken through no fault of his own.

           

Buffy looked at his face and she knew too, feeling her stomach sink to her feet. The Slayer in her knew what she had to do: she needed to take Dawn and get out of there, tell Spike to be gone by the time she got back, but she found it impossible. The woman in her had other ideas. “Spike, will you look after Dawn? Willow might decide to come back.”

           

He gave her an incredulous look. “Slayer, I—”

           

“Will you look after Dawn?”

           

Slowly, he nodded, a new light in his eyes. “Till the end of the world.”

           

“Good. You should take her someplace safe, where Willow wouldn’t think to look. She might not go by your crypt, but I don’t know.”

           

He shook his head. “No, crypt’s no good. She knows about that too well. I’ll take her to the mansion. Red wouldn’t think of looking for us there.”

           

“Good.” She nodded. “I have to go. She’s going after Jonathan and Andrew right now and I have to stop her.” Buffy didn’t allow herself to think twice about leaving her sister with an almost surely de-chipped Spike. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, knew it with every bone in her body. But when the current crisis was over she’d have to decide if she could trust him with the rest of the human population.

           

~~~~~ 

 

Spike got them to the mansion in one piece, his head still throbbing. He was pleased that Dawn didn’t seem any more scared of him than she normally was, which meant she thought him as frightening as a big fluffy puppy. Not that her attitude did anything for his ego, but it still pleased him.

           

“Let’s find one of the interior rooms,” he suggested as they entered. “They’ll be furnished, and I won’t have to worry about the sun in the morning.”

           

Dawn nodded, not saying anything, and followed him down a hallway. Almost of their own accord, his feet took him directly to where his old bedroom used to be. As many unpleasant memories were associated with this house and this room, it was reassuring in an odd way. It had been here that he’d gotten out of that damn chair, and it had been here that he’d first stopped an apocalypse with Buffy. Maybe it was a good omen, him being here again.

           

They set up camp there, both of them sitting on the dusty bed. Spike unslung the crossbow he’d worn, and Dawn put down the dagger she carried. There was a long silence, neither of them knowing quite what to say after the events of the last twelve hours. It felt like twelve lifetimes for the both of them.

           

“Are you going to leave now?” she finally asked.

           

He looked over at her, and then away. “That’s up to Buffy.”

           

“Why?” she asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong; you haven’t done anything wrong. Why can’t you stay?”

           

“Because if I do, and your sister ever has to stake me, it would hurt her. And I don’t hurt Buffy,” he said.

           

“But if you leave, you hurt me,” Dawn said, her voice a soft protest. “Do you really want to start eating people again?”

           

“Not if it means losing your sister, pet,” he replied. “But she may not see it that way.” For the second time that day, she let him hold her.

           

Dawn wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Promise me that if you have to go, you’ll come back and visit, even if it’s just for a little while. I wouldn’t tell Buffy, I promise.”

           

He shouldn’t promise, he knew. Buffy had been very specific in not wanting him back in town ever if the chip came out, and at this point he loved her enough to respect her wishes. And yet, he _was_ evil. He could come back and visit Dawn, not tell anyone. He could give her that much at least. “I promise, L’il Bit. You should try to get some sleep.”

           

“I won’t be able to sleep,” she warned him.

           

“Try anyway,” he replied. “Go to sleep, Bit. I’ll stay up.” She seemed to heed him, and he listened as her breathing evened out and decided that he would just close his eyes for a minute. Just one minute…

           

Of course, when he woke up Dawn was gone. It wasn’t that long after sunrise, but the bed next to him held no touch of warmth, which meant she’d been gone for a while. Chances were she’d simply waited for him to go to sleep and then had left. Not because she didn’t trust him, but because she wanted to be out there in the midst of things and not cooped up in some musty old mansion.

           

Spike frowned. He was worried about the Bit, to be sure. But he worried about Buffy too, and the rest of them, really. He could admit it as long as he was being honest with himself. On the other hand, he had a great deal of respect for Dawn’s ability to take care of herself. She didn’t mind breaking a few rules to get what she needed, and he had no doubt that she’d be a hell of a woman someday. So he wasn’t as worried as he might have been.

           

It was probably around 10 when the Slayer finally came around. She was alone and obviously tired; it had been a long day. She actually smiled when she saw him. “Dawn told me not to blame you for her running off. She claimed full responsibility and reminded me that you’d just had your brain scrambled.”

           

He gave her a sheepish look. “Still, shouldn’t’ve been fooled by the fake sleeping, luv. Oldest bloody trick in the book. What’s the end of the story then?”

           

She looked at him, her smile fading. “Willow kicked my ass, Giles showed up. She went after the other nerds with a huge fireball, which I then had to stop. She kicked Giles’ ass, went to end the world, and Xander talked her out of it.” Buffy paused. “Apparently there was something in there about a yellow crayon, but I didn’t quite catch that part.”

           

“Harris’ll be insufferable,” Spike remarked with a wry twist of the lips.

           

“Probably for a while,” Buffy agreed, giving him a brief grin. “I think Giles is going to take Willow back to England with him. He said something about there being a coven there that might be able to help her.” There was a long silence. “She got the chip out.”

           

“She did.” He didn’t want to look at her, to read the truth of the matter in her eyes. To read the end of it all on her face. “I can stay at my crypt till I finish healing up. If Glinda—” he stopped, grief washing over him. “If Glinda was right, I should be back on my feet in no time, Slayer.”

           

“No.”

           

“No?” Buffy’s face was nearly unreadable when he spared her a glance, and he felt a faint glimmer of hope.

           

“I promised that I’d get you back on your feet again,” she explained. “It was part of the deal.”

           

Spike’s jaw clenched. He understood. He could stay until he was well enough to leave. “Of course. That and you’ll want to keep an eye on me, right, Slayer?”

           

She flinched at the bitterness in his tone, which was completely understandable under the circumstances. They’d been moving towards a comfortable relationship, he’d been healing, he was proving himself to her. And now this. Now Willow decides to screw around with things and she loses the man she thought she might have been falling in love with, because that was the way things worked. She killed vampires unless they were souled or helpless, and Spike was neither of those anymore. There was no way she was going to kill him; therefore he had to leave town. It was a simple equation. “Spike—”

           

“No, luv, it’s alright, yeah? We both knew this was hopeless from the beginning. Me, vampire, you, Slayer. I’m sure it’s for the best.” In truth, Spike never thought he would give in this easily. And in truth, he wasn’t. He just didn’t want to hear her say the words. If he was noble and just left, she wouldn’t have to tell him that she didn’t love him, didn’t trust him. He wouldn’t have to hear her reject him.

           

“It’s not fair,” she whispered. “Why, Spike? Why do things always have to be this hard?”

           

He didn’t have an answer for her and she knew it. But she wanted one. She wanted someone to finally be able to say that everything was going to be okay and mean it. And not just mean it but be able to guarantee it. He stared at her for a long time, knowing exactly what she wanted and not being able to give it to her. Finally, he said, “I love you, Buffy, and that won’t ever change. You’ll do what you have to do, and you’ll get through it, ‘cause you’re strong. Whatever you ask of me, I’ll do my best for you.”

           

“I know,” she said, and didn’t have to add that his best might not be enough, because sometimes it’s not. “Just—stay with me for a while, Spike. I told Dawn I wouldn’t come back until after dark. We have some time.” And she didn’t tell him that it might be the only time they ever had, because he already knew. And she didn’t tell him what she really wanted, because he knew that too. And because they understood one another so well, there was nothing more to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is: the epilogue and the end of the story I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for. As you’ll notice, there are two possible endings. As I was writing this story, I found myself completely certain of Spike, but not so much of Buffy. Would she let him stay, or would she ask him to go? And as I considered, I came up with two distinctly different possibilities. Anyway, take your pick as to which one you like better. I’m still not sure.


	21. Epilogue 1: Stay

He had stayed in the basement for two weeks, and Buffy had let him. They were doing their best to avoid one another, mostly because the future was too much to deal with at this point. She had never thought that even the idea of Spike leaving permanently would hurt this much, and yet she had steeled herself to do her duty. She’d sent one boyfriend to hell, after all. Letting another one leave town should be a piece of cake.

           

But it wasn’t, and so she’d avoided him, if only to put that much more distance between them before he was well enough to leave, so that when the time came she could actually let him go.

 

Everyone knew about the chip being out, but Giles had been too busy with Willow to say anything about it, and Xander had kept his mouth shut as well, understanding that Spike didn’t deserve a stake after all he had done for them. Xander had accepted that Spike wouldn’t hurt Buffy and the rest of the gang at least. He was still feeling a little iffy about the rest of the population, however. Willow, of course, wasn’t thinking about Spike at all, even if she had realized that removing the chip was tantamount to another murder, give or take a thousand—assuming Spike went back to feeding. So they knew he was going to leave, or that Buffy was going to run him out of town. And Buffy knew they expected it, which was just one more reason to stick to her guns.           

 

The time came too soon. Buffy came in after patrol three weeks after the averted apocalypse to find Spike waiting for her in the living room. She knew immediately what was going on, since the crutches were nowhere in sight. And she watched as he stood and walked towards her. He still wasn’t completely healed, she could tell. His left leg dragged just a little, and after months with no practice, his steps were somewhat uncertain, the swagger gone.

 

They were silent, his eyes never leaving hers. At least until that pesky left foot caught on the carpet, causing him to stumble and nearly fall. Buffy’s reflexes were honed after months of living with him, and she caught him before he could hit the ground.

 

Buffy froze as she realized that Spike’s mouth was about a centimeter away from her neck, and he would be able to take a bite out of her before she could do anything about it. She should have shoved him away as soon as she realized, but instead she tilted her head in an open temptation, her senses screaming. And she felt his cool lips kiss her neck, right over the scars left by Angel and the Master.

 

Slowly, he righted himself and smiled at her. “I’ve already said my goodbyes to the Niblet,” he said softly. “Told her you weren’t to blame, but she’s swearing it’ll be a blue moon before she talks to you again. You’ll want to give her some time.”

 

“Spike—”

 

“You’ll say goodbye to the rest of the bunch for me,” he went on, as though he hadn’t heard her. “Make sure you take Harris down a peg or two for me before he gets too cocky with all the world-saving.”

 

Spike knew what he was doing. He was leaving before she had to ask him to go, because he didn’t hurt Buffy, and this had been part of the deal. Spike kept his promises, always.

 

Buffy watched him in a fog, part of her paralyzed, and the other part screaming at her to tell him to stay, to forbid him to walk out that door. She’d grown used to him, and he was leaving. And then his hand was on the knob, and he was turning the handle, and the door was open, and his duffel was slung over his shoulder (where had that come from), and—

 

“You can’t eat anybody,” she blurted out. Spike froze, not turning around. “If you decide to stay, you can’t eat anybody, and I mean it, Spike.”

 

He turned to look at her incredulously. “And no going back to your crypt, because I really don’t want to have to visit you there.”

 

“Buffy?”

 

“And no wet towels on the floor,” she said, tears threatening. “Because you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself now, so there’s no excuse.”

 

“Luv?”

 

“And you can’t leave,” she said. “If you stay, there will be no leaving. And if you do, I swear I will hunt you down, and there won’t be enough left of you to fit in an ashtray. So this is your last chance, because if you stay then you’re not leaving ever.”

 

Spike swallowed and shut the door, putting down the duffel. “Any more rules I should know about, pet?” he asked with an uncertain smile.

 

“Kiss me.”

 

And he did. This time the kiss was long and hard and demanding. Desperate and hungry. There was nothing left unsaid in this kiss, and it held the promise of more, infinitely more to come. “Why?” he breathed, when Buffy had to come up for air.

 

“Because I think you can do it,” she replied. “And because I love you.”

 

He grinned, and proceeded to show her just how good he was at following her rules.


	22. Epilogue 2: Boomerang

Buffy sat on the back porch and sighed. She still couldn’t believe she’d let him go. His hand had been on the doorknob, and she’d wanted so badly to ask him to stay, and she’d been silent, unable to say the words. Looking back, of course, she realized she’d trusted him. She’d left him alone with her little sister after the chip had come out, and he hadn’t given her a scratch. Whether or not he would have been safe around the rest of the population, she could have asked him not to feed. And he would have promised, and then he would have kept that promise.

           

That was just Spike.

           

The bright spot in all of this was that he’d never promised not to come back. She’d offered him a deal, but there were no promises made. And he left his coat, which she was certain he would return for eventually.

           

Buffy looked up at the night sky, staring at the stars. Spike had been gone for over three months now, and the house was much quieter without him. It had been even more silent for the first three weeks when Dawn had stubbornly refused to speak to her. Her sister had come around after a while, mostly after Buffy had admitted that she missed him and wished she’d told him to stay. That confession had thawed Dawn out considerably; as long as her sister was also suffering, that was good enough.

           

It didn’t change the fact that they were both missing Spike horribly. And then she smiled into the darkness.

           

“Spike.”

           

“Hello, Buffy.” He stepped out of the shadows of the back yard into the light from the porch. His shirt and jeans were ragged, the duffel he still carried threadbare. Even his hair was scruffy, longer with the roots showing, giving his face a softer look, even as his haggard demeanor made him look older and harder.

           

“I was wondering when you would come back to town,” she said, smiling.

           

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he replied, taking another step forward. She noticed his left foot still dragged a bit. “And I wasn’t supposed to come back.”

           

“You left your coat,” she explained.

           

He put the duffel down on the grass. “Was wondering where I’d left it.” There was a long silence, and then he said, “Won’t stay long, Buffy. I just wanted to look in on you and the Bit.”

           

Buffy froze. This was the way it could be, she realized. For years and years, he would wander around and return every so often to check up on her and Dawn and make sure they were fine. And then he would leave again, and it would go on, a different version of the same-old dance until he was dust or she was dead. And she could stop it, just like she could have prevented him from leaving in the first place.

           

“Do you want to come in for some hot chocolate? Or some blood? Or both?” she asked hopefully.

           

He hesitated. “Are you sure, luv? You might not want to invite me back into your house. I can stay out here.”

           

She reached out and took his hand. “You were never uninvited, Spike.”

           

He followed her into the house almost shyly. “Didn’t know that I’d find you so welcoming, luv.”

           

“I missed you,” she replied simply. “Where did you go?”

           

“Africa.”

           

“What’s in Africa?”

           

“Demon bloke, grants wishes.” He sat down on a stool. “Where’s Dawn?”

           

“At a friend’s, spending the night.” Buffy glanced up from where she was pouring the blood into a mug. The blood she still kept for him. She thought he looked like he could use a good meal. “What did you wish for?”

           

“Doesn’t really matter,” he hedged. “Still evil and all that. Thought I’d stop by to see the Niblet and be on my way again. Promised her I would, you know.”

           

She shook her head, handing him the mug. “First of all, I’d _like_ to know what you wished for. Second, you’re not leaving again.”

           

“I’m not?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. “That really up to you, pet?”

           

Buffy glared at him. “It is if I lock you up in the basement until you agree not to leave.”

           

“Point,” he said with more than a hint of amusement. “Doesn’t change the fact that the chip’s out.”

           

“I don’t care,” she said. “If I tell you not to eat people you won’t. I knew that before you left and I was stupid and let you go anyway.” Buffy swallowed and then came closer, running a gentle hand along his face and through his hair. “What did you wish for, Spike?”

           

“My soul.” She greeted his pronouncement with silence, and then gave him a slow smile.

           

“How’s that working out for you?” she asked.

           

He shrugged, a classic Spike gesture. “Some days are better than others. I wanted to stay with you, Buffy.”

           

“And I want you to stay. Forever, if possible. That work for you?” Her eyes caressed his face, his mouth, his cheekbones.

           

He smiled. “I think I might be able to work that into my schedule, luv.” There were no more words, only touching and kissing and heading up the stairs for a more intimate reunion. And they loved one another until the dawn came and they were both too exhausted to move. “I love you, you know,” Buffy said conversationally.

           

“Because of the soul?” he asked, and it felt like the most important question ever asked.

           

“No, because you’re you,” she said, and felt his arms tighten around her.

           

“I never thought we’d be here,” he admitted.

           

She sat up to look at him. “Neither did I, but now that we are, I’m not in a big hurry to leave.”

           

“Then let’s not.” And they didn’t leave her room for a very long time.


End file.
